Paschendale
by Ninja Violinist
Summary: In the spring of 1989, nearly six years after the death of his wife, John Winchester met a woman named Joyce Summers. From their temporary union came a daughter: Buffy. At sixteen she is Chosen to become the Slayer... just as Heaven and Hell’s plans for her two big brothers begin to unfold.
1. Book I: Chapter 1

Disclaimer - _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and _Supernatural_ are properties of Whedon and Kripke, respectively. They're not mine, but if they were I would share.

* * *

 _In regards to the story format…_

Most of the story is written in regular old prose, but there are few chapters (including this first one) where events are told in newspaper clippings, phone and text conversations, journal entries, and whatever else would work for the specific event. Anyways, enjoy!

* * *

 **WARNING** : This work will contain spoilers for all seasons of both BtVS and SPN. There will also be lots of naughty words.

* * *

November 3, 1983

 **The Lawrence-Journal World**

A fire broke out last evening around 11PM at the home of John and Mary Winchester. Authorities believe that the fire may have been started by faulty wiring in the front second floor bedroom. Mary Winchester was unfortunately caught in the inferno and her body was recovered a few hours later.

Mary leaves behind her husband, John, and two sons, aged six months and four years. A memorial service will be held at Warren-McElwain Mortuary next Friday at 1PM.

* * *

 _February 1987_

* * *

( _Phone call from John Winchester to Bobby Singer_ )

BOBBY: Hello?

JOHN: Hey, Bobby.

BOBBY: Whaddya mean, 'Hey, Bobby'? For the love of Christ, man, it's been almost a goddamn month and we haven't heard from you? What the hell were you thinking?

JOHN: I was _thinking_ I needed to finish the fucking hunt I was on. I was _thinking_ that the boys were in good hands so I didn't need to worry. I was _thinking_ that I'm free now so I might check up on my boys.

DEAN: ( _in the background_ ) Uncle Bobby? Is that dad? He's okay?

BOBBY: Of course he's okay, son. He'll be coming home right soon, y'hear?

JOHN: Not just yet.

BOBBY: _Excuse_ me?

JOHN: I need to take care of a couple of things first.

BOBBY: You listen to me. You got a three, almost four year old and an eight year old that's been sitting here waiting for your ass for three and a half weeks. You get your stupid face back here _today!_

JOHN: Don't you _dare_ tell me what to do. I'll come get them when I'm good and ready to get them. So shut your goddam mouth and hold tight a few more days.

BOBBY: Don't you dare ha—( _harsh click from the other end followed by a dial tone_ ) _FUCK!_

* * *

 _March 1989_

* * *

( _Phone call from John Winchester to Bobby Singer_ )

BOBBY: Hello?

JOHN: Hey, Bobby.

BOBBY: ( _enormous sigh_ ) Whaddya want, John?

JOHN: Listen, can you put out the word that I'm going to be unavailable for the foreseeable future? At least not unless it's an emergency.

BOBBY: Oh? Why's that? ( _2 seconds of silence_ ) _Hello?_

JOHN: I've… I've met someone. Her name is Joyce. We're going to rent a place here in L.A. The boys love her, and I think I want to try and make this work.

BOBBY: Really? Good for you, John. I really mean it. I know that shit with Mary's been eating you up inside for years.

JOHN: Yeah, well, let's see where this goes. Sam needs to at least go to school for a while. The kid's smart, Bobby. Real smart.

BOBBY: Could'a told you that.

JOHN: Anyways, thanks Bobby.

BOBBY: No problem, John. You tell your boys I said hi.

JOHN: Yeah.

* * *

January 20, 1990

Hey Joyce!

You'll probably get this letter _after_ we come visit, but I still want to say congratulations! Did you guys stick with Elizabeth Anne or did that scruffy boyfriend of yours make you change it?

Celia's almost two months old and is only waking up twice a night now. Thank God. Fred just adores her. I have this feeling that John will adore little Buffy, too. Just make sure he knows how to say no! By the way, has Dean been acting any better since the last time you wrote? That boy is nothing but trouble. If you want my opinion, keep Elizabeth away from him. Sam, though - such a little cutie! Hope he hits a growth spurt soon.

Now that you guys have a baby, is John going to finally pop the question? I want Polaroids of the ring mailed to me as soon as he does!

Hugs and kisses, your sister, Irene

* * *

POLICE INCIDENT REPORT / LAPD

DATE: March 16, 1991 / Time: 11:35PM

TYPE: Domestic Disturbance

LOCATION: 3471 W. 5th Street

INCIDENT REPORTED BY: Ms. Gretchen Brownstone / Age: 68

SUSPECT: John Winchester

NARRATIVE: ON THE EVENING OF MARCH 16, 1991, I OFFICER GARCIA RESPONDED TO A 911 DISPATCH CALL TO THE BARCLAY APARTMENT COMPLEX. MS. BROWNSTONE FILED A COMPLAINT REGARDING NOISE FROM THE APARTMENT ACROSS THE HALLWAY AND REPORTED SOUNDS OF ITEMS BREAKING AND CHILDREN SCREAMING. SUSPECT LEFT THE PREMISES IN HIS VEHICLE APPROXIMATELY TEN MINUTES PRIOR TO ARRIVAL WITH HIS TWO SONS. MS. JOYCE SUMMERS AND HER INFANT WERE UNHARMED. MS. SUMMERS DID NOT WISH TO PRESS CHARGES. SUSPECT'S CHILDREN ARE NOT MS. SUMMERS' CHILDREN AND SHE REQUESTED THAT WE NOT CLASSIFY THEIR DEPARTURE AS A KIDNAPPING. / END REPORT

* * *

( _Phone call from John Winchester to Ellen Harvelle_ )

ELLEN: Hello, this is the Roadhouse.

JOHN: Ellen.

ELLEN: John? How the hell have you been?

JOHN: Ellen, I need a place to stay for a little. Boys're with Pastor Jim.

ELLEN: You better not be driving over here in the state you're in. I can smell that rotgut of yours through the phone. What happened with your lady friend?

JOHN: I fucked up, Ellen. I fucked up bad. Just need to lay up a few days, get my shit back together and I'll be off your back.

ELLEN: Okay John, you come on by. You need to be seeing little Jo anyways, growing like a weed, splitting image of her daddy. ( _3 seconds of silence_ ) John?

JOHN: ( _mumble_ ) I left Bubble-Buffy.

ELLEN: What?

JOHN: Never mind Ellen, I'm not coming. I'll be fine. Talk to you soon.

ELLEN: All right, let me know if you change your mind.

JOHN: Thanks.

* * *

 _January 1995_

* * *

( _Wedding invitation to John Winchester's PO Box in Kansas_ )

Joyce Summers

and

Hank Sutherland

request your presence on July 15, 1995

at 9 o'clock in the morning

Address: Canyon Crest Country Club  
975 Country Club Dr.  
Riverside, CA 92506

( _Handwritten note on the back_ ) John, please come. It would mean so much to Buffy.

* * *

January 19, 2001

Hello new diary! I am Elizabeth Summers. I am eleven years old. My daddy is John Winchester and my mommy is Joyce Summers. My other daddy is Hank Sutherland but he's mean and I don't like him. My real daddy gave me this diary today on my birthday! I got to see my brothers Dean and Sam. They don't have a mommy. Dean is tall but I like Sam the best. They gave me presents too. Dean gave me a grown up girl magazine but Hank took it away. Sam gave me lots of candy! I miss my brothers a lot. They call sometimes. Daddy John and mommy don't like each other. But I love my daddy and my brothers and I wish they could stay all the time instead of coming by only sometimes. I wish I could go in their car with them but Hank and daddy John say I need to go to school and get smart.

I love you diary! Elizabeth Anne Summers

* * *

 _March 2001_

* * *

Sam Winchester  
PO Box 3361  
Lawrence, KS 66044

Dear Sam,

Congratulations! It is with great pleasure that I offer you admission to the Stanford University Class of 2005.

Your thoughtful application and remarkable accomplishments convinced us that you have the intellectual energy, imagination and talent to flourish at Stanford. We are thrilled to welcome you to the Stanford community and look forward to the unique and extraordinary contributions we know you will make to the intellectual and extracurricular life of our campus.

Whatever decision you make, we ask that you complete the enclosed enrollment response card and return it to us by the postmark deadline of May 2, 2001. Should you decide to matriculate at Stanford — and we sincerely hope you do — we will send enrollment information to you in late May.

Once again, I extend my congratulations on your admission to Stanford and welcome you to the Stanford family.

Sincerely, Anna Smith, Director of Admissions

( _Handwritten note at the bottom_ ) Sam, I know when we initially spoke you were doubtful that your father would approve and that you couldn't afford tuition. If you can work things on your end, I can work things on mine. If you decide to come, I'm certain I can get you a full scholarship. You are extraordinary! Don't let anything hold you back!

P.S. Were you planning on studying English or Creative Writing? Using the supernatural as an allegory made for a fascinating read.

* * *

May 1, 2001

John,

Guess who darkened my doorstep yesterday? Your son, Sam.

You are unbelievable, John. The boy has a full ride to _Stanford_ and you didn't want him to go? What kind of father are you? Just because he doesn't want to be a roving mechanic like you and Dean doesn't mean he's worthless. Just the opposite. Maybe Sam will actually make something out of himself. At least he got away before you completely ruined him like you did Dean.

Do yourself a favor and at least _try_ to talk to Sam again. You and your other boy might need to lean on _him_ in the future.

Joyce

* * *

 _November 2002_

* * *

( _Written on a cocktail napkin_ )

Jessica

650–555–9816

* * *

 **Moral Obligation and the Law** : An Examination of Situational Circumstances Where the Law Does Not Supersede Righteousness

Sam Winchester

December 10, 2004

ETHICSOC 4 / Dr. Ramona Griffiths

( _Handwritten at the bottom of the title page_ ) Sam, this is a wonderfully written piece, but you must remember that the law is sacrosanct. Your defense of vigilantism is persuasive but you must remember that laws have been written for a reason and _no one_ should be above them. How else could we maintain order?

* * *

 _April 2005_

* * *

 **NPR Hourly Radio Newscast**

LAKSHMI: Live from NPR news in Washington I'm Lakshmi Singh. A high school in Los Angeles was the victim of an arsonist that police say was a young woman that attended the school. Our correspondent Bill Fernandez has the details.

BILL: Hemery High School, located in the suburbs of Los Angeles, is normally a bastion of peace and stability. On the night of April 15th, a school dance was interrupted by what witnesses say was a young woman having a fight with an older man. How the fire started has not been determined. The blaze spread quickly, but miraculously no one was hurt. The student in question has subsequently been expelled and because of her age her name and information will not be released. I'm Bill Fernandez in Los Angeles.

* * *

 **Gateways Hospital and Mental Health Care**

Psychiatric Discharge Summary Medical Transcription

PATIENT NAME: Elizabeth Anne Summers

DATE OF ADMISSION: 6/2/2005  
DATE OF DISCHARGE: 6/19/2005

DISCHARGE DIAGNOSES:  
Histrionic Personality Disorder / Depression / Mild Schizophrenia

REASONS FOR ADMISSION: The patient was admitted by stepfather for delusions of monsters. The patient believes she is a slayer of vampires and insists they are real. The patient displays willful disobedience, having disappeared for several months with a boyfriend. The patient is suspected of arson.

PROCEDURES AND TREATMENT:  
Individual and group therapy. Family therapy. Psychopharmacologic management.

HOSPITAL COURSE: The patient responded to all therapies and no longer believes herself to be a monster killer. The patient was unwilling to take medication but this did not seem to deter her rehabilitation.

DISCHARGE ASSESSMENT: At the time of discharge, the patient is alert and fully oriented. Denies all delusions. Insight and judgement good.

PLAN: ( _covered by handwritten taped note_ ) For God's sake Harrison, just let Sam Winchester have her! He's threatening to sue.

* * *

 **SUPERIOR COURT OF CALIFORNIA, COUNTY OF LOS ANGELES**

DATE: 7/28/2005

PETITIONER: Joyce Summers

RESPONDENT: Hank Sutherland

PETITION FOR DISSOLUTION (DIVORCE) OF: Marriage

MINOR CHILDREN: Elizabeth Anne Summers / 1/20/1990 / 15 / Female

Petitioner requests that the court make the following orders:

LEGAL GROUNDS: Divorce of the marriage or domestic partnership based on: (1) irreconcilable differences

* * *

 _October 2005_

* * *

( _Voicemail left on the phone of John Winchester_ )

DEAN: Dad. It's been two weeks. Why haven't you called back? Look, I'm frigging tired. I don't hear from you I'm picking up Sam and Buffy and we're coming after you. That voicemail you left me was bullshit and you know it. Call me back for fuck's sake!

* * *

 **Author's Note** : Hello! Thanks for joining me on my second SPN/BtVS crossover! This time it's about family rather than smoochies. As I've done before, BtVS is getting a time jump instead of the other way around so the Scoobies will have access to cell phones and the like.

Since there are way more SPN seasons than BtVS I've mapped out the story so that the SPN seasons will sometimes double and triple up. I don't have nearly enough knowledge to tackle seasons 8+ without mangling them. I'm also planning on utilizing seasons 3+ of Angel. In other words, this one is looking to be long.

Regarding chapter one: All of the formatted sections (police report and stuff) I tried to duplicate. California forms have a lot of check boxes and junk. The newspaper, asylum, and apartment names are real, but except for Lakshmi Singh the rest of the people are fake. I just like her name.

The Stanford acceptance letter is copied directly from one I found online. Also, I'm obligated to say I attended UC Berkeley and therefore Stanford sucks.

I fudged a little with the Harvelles. The Wikia says John met them in 1995 and after the incident never came back, but Ellen says they were like family. I just inserted that they knew each other before.


	2. Book I: Chapter 2

(9/12/2016) Well, Opus Insert is done and it's time to get moving on this monstrosity.

Thanks to **Princesakarlita411** , **RHatch89** , and **Jennee77** (hi there! I remember you:D) for the reviews! And thanks to all you early followers!

* * *

 _November 2005_

* * *

In a manner greatly antithetical to its driver's normal, bombastic method of arrival, the Impala slowly and quietly pulled up to the house on Revello Drive. "Dude," whispered Sam, "what's with the creep?"

Dean didn't respond; his attention was focused on the dim light from the second floor. "You see that?"

Sam leaned over and tried to determine what was so fascinating about the curtained window. He immediately ascertained that it was the second, more robust figure that held his brother's attention, particularly since it was so precariously close to the short shadow that had to be their half-sister. When the pair morphed together, it became apparent what they were up to. "You think Joyce knows?" Sam wondered.

"Doubt it. Didn't know Buff' had it in her. I'm trying to decide whether to be proud or pissed she snuck a boy into her room."

Sam's own disapproval immediately became alarm when their sister let out a piercing scream. The unknown boy shot out of the window and jumped recklessly from the roof to the ground. He landed lightly on his feet and took off. Dean, who had leapt from the car at Buffy's shriek, gave chase, swearing obscenities and imprecations at the mystery man.

The younger brother ran for the door, bursting inside and taking the stairs three at a time. He skidded to a stop at the doorway to Buffy's room and demanded, "What happened? Are you okay?"

" _Sam_?" exclaimed Buffy, dumbfounded by his sudden appearance.

A hand was laid on his arm. Instinctively, the young man prepped an attack and swiveled around. "It's good to see you, Sam," said Joyce, "but could one of you tell me what in the world that was all about?"

"Shadow," her daughter answered. "I just saw a _shadow_." She cast a meaningful glare at her brother.

Sam relaxed his fists and gave his erstwhile stepmother his most innocent smile. "You know her. Probably freaked out over a spider."

Joyce shook her head and appeared to take the subterfuge. "Shouldn't you be at school?" she asked.

"Uh, yeah. About that." His heart plummeting, Sam briefly explained his decision to depart from Stanford, conveying to the woman that his fiancé had died unexpectedly and he needed a break. He left out several pertinent details, but the gist of the tragedy was laid bare.

The young man's agony was obvious and Joyce readily accepted the explanation. "I'm so sorry," she commiserated while Buffy nodded sympathetically.

"Thanks," Sam choked out. Then he remembered why they'd bothered to drive down to Southern California in the first place. "Hey, either of you hear from dad?"

"Not me," replied Joyce. "Buffy?"

"Nope. What's going on?"

"We haven't heard from him in a couple of weeks," Dean clarified as he crested the stairs and came down the hallway. "And 'hi,'" he greeted, giving his best smirk and stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Long time no see."

"Oh goodness, come here," Joyce gushed as she affectionately gave first Sam, and then Dean, lingering hugs. "You missed Buffy's birthday last year!" she scolded the elder brother.

"Yeah, sorry about that. Dad had work he couldn't get out of."

"We've been seeing Sam nearly every month anyways. You want to take the spare room again?"

"Uh, well," stuttered Sam, "we weren't going to—"

"Yeah, sure!" Dean interjected. "C'mon, Sammy. I'll even let you take the bed."

"It's _Sam_."

"Okay, Samantha."

As the two departed to grab their satchels from the Impala, Joyce sighed. "Whatever you do," she warned her daughter, "don't let Dean drag you into any trouble while he's here, okay?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Mom, we're not little kids anymore."

"Exactly. That means that the kind of trouble your older brother can get you in now might have bigger consequences than just getting grounded."

* * *

"What happened?" asked Sam as he pulled his backpack from the trunk.

"Dude runs really freaking fast," Dean grumbled. "He got around the block and I lost him."

Buffy bounced out of the house as they were walking back to the porch. "Hey, thanks for, you know, not blabbing to mom."

"Blabbing to Joyce about what?" Dean asked innocently. "You mean about the _boy_ in your room?"

The youngest sibling glared. "Stop being a butt."

"Wha—who—what kinda—"

"Leave her alone," Sam sighed.

"Dude, she called me a butt! Who gets called a _butt?_ "

"People who look and smell like one," retorted Buffy.

Sam grabbed Dean by the back of his jacket before his elder brother could retaliate. He rolled his eyes at the tongue Buffy now had jabbing in their direction. "Can we go in and get some sleep now?" Sam asked, doing his best not to whine his siblings' antics.

Amiably, the trio headed for the front door. "When did dad give you his car?" Buffy wondered.

"While ago," Dean answered blithely.

"Can you drive me to school tomorrow?"

"Sure. Lazy-ass."

"Butthead."

"Again with the butt! Midget."

"Hey! I grew!"

"Yeah, outwards."

"Oh, it is _so_ on."

* * *

"Those are your _brothers_?" gaped Xander Harris. Buffy's tall, lanky friend was thankful that his crush was _related_ to the handsome duo that stepped out of the black muscle car. There was little doubt he'd have even the ghost of a chance at the lovely blonde otherwise.

"Wow," drawled Willow Rosenberg as she also admired the sight. Xander and Buffy both lifted their eyebrows at her starry-eyed stare. In her bright clothes and flowered skirt, Buffy's first real Sunnydale acquaintance often appeared younger than her years. At times her teenaged friends sometimes forgot that she had the same hormonal urges as the rest of them.

"Can you two put your jaws back up?" Buffy said. "And what are you two doing here?" she demanded of her siblings.

"What?" said Dean. "School's out. Not like we're going to interrupt a class."

"I swear we're not here to spy," Sam replied defensively.

"Not unless that dickwad from last night is around," the eldest brother added menacingly. He scanned the milling teenagers under the assumption that Buffy's evening visitor was a fellow student. His sister smacked him on the arm. "Hey!"

"He's not and you _still_ haven't answered my question!"

"Well, well, well," purred Cordelia Chase as she approached. "Who are they?" The antagonistic, popular, and wealthy head cheerleader was thankfully alone; her usual squad of similarly haughty hanger-ons were apparently off torturing some other hapless loser.

"Oh, sorry," Buffy apologized. "Sam, Dean, this is Willow and Xander. And _that_ ," she added caustically, "is Cordelia."

Sam shook Xander's hand in greeting and exchanged a wave with Willow (who was too dumbstruck to do much else) while Dean eyed the newcomer. Cordelia smiled coyly at him and told Buffy, "Just because you brought them doesn't mean you get to keep them."

"Well, I kinda do. I get to take them home and everything." When the other girl gave her a withering stare, Buffy condescendingly added, "They're my brothers."

"There's no way that the three of you share DNA," scoffed Cordelia. "They're much too good looking."

"Thank you," Dean beamed.

Abruptly, Xander gave an obnoxious cough with the word, "Jailbait!" thrown into the noise.

As Sam cleared his throat to hide a snigger, the eldest brother's face fell upon the realization that he was talking to one of his teenaged sister's peers. Dean smacked himself in the forehead and turned away, cursing under his breath. Seeing that her charms were being wasted, Cordelia shot Buffy and her friends scowls and marched away.

When her brothers also made to leave, Buffy cried, "Hey! Question? Mine? Answer?"

Sam thumbed towards the school. "Friend of dad's is the librarian. Guy named Rupert Giles? We thought we might check if he had any info."

"You know anything about him?" asked Dean.

"Uh, nope!" answered their sister. "He's much too much of a fuddy-duddy for little old me to be hanging with."

"Library that way?" wondered Sam as he pointed. Willow helpfully gestured in the right direction with a nervous grin and the brothers waved and walked away.

Willow watched their departure with a goofy smile plastered on her face. She gave a throaty chuckle. "Tall," she murmured.

Buffy let out a great heaving sigh. "Ugh, I hope they're not staying long."

"Why not?" asked Xander. He affected a deep, machismo tone. "Big mans protect little Buffy."

"Buffy doesn't need _big mans_ , remember? Vampire Slayer?"

Willow shook herself out of her stupor. "They don't know, do they?" she surmised. "That's why the secret not-knowing-Giles thing?"

"Nope, and they're not gonna. Last thing I need is more freak out. Already had enough, thanks."

"Yeah. Don't think anyone reacts very good to finding out a vampire was in their sister's bedroom."

* * *

"Buffy, good! I—" The librarian cut off quickly as he turned; the two men sauntering into the library were quite obviously not the young student he'd been expecting. "Can I help you?" he asked in a sophisticated English accent.

"Maybe," Dean replied. "You Rupert Giles? We're John Winchester's sons. I'm Dean, this is Sam."

"Ah, yes!" The nervous demeanor vanished at their father's name and was quickly replaced with a combination of professional stoicism and affability. "What can I do for you?"

"Have you heard from dad?" asked Sam. "We haven't gotten word from him in a couple of weeks now."

"Not since last Tuesday, no."

Dean's brow lifted in astonishment. "Wait, what? Last _Tuesday_?"

"I'm assuming the two of you are, well, part of the business?" When they nodded, Giles adjusted his glasses and leaned slightly on the library's checkout desk. "I had a bit of information on that thing he's been obsessed with. John insisted on seeing the sources himself then he was off. I'm very sorry, but he didn't say anything about where he was going."

"Great," groused the elder brother. "Another freaking dead end."

Sam sighed, before pragmatically asking, "I don't suppose you've got word of any jobs we could handle while we're here?"

"Uh, no, not especially. It's… It's a rather quiet, uneventful town."

"All right, thanks Mr. Giles." Sam reached out to shake the librarian's hand.

"Please, Rupert is perfectly fine."

Dean also shook the man's hand before the pair exited the library. When they had gone down the hall and around the corner, Sam stopped. "Hey," he said quietly. "He thought we were Buffy."

"Yeah," Dean acknowledged as he faced his brother. "Midget _lied_."

"Not like we don't have a few secrets, Dean."

"Yeah, well, dad said not to get Joyce or Buffy involved in hunting. Family business stays with the Winchesters. Don't gotta drag the Summers into this shit."

Sam sighed as they continued their journey back to the Impala. "Wouldn't think Buffy would be much into hunting anyways. She's better off worrying about grades and boys than killing monsters."

* * *

The brothers took the next several hours to explore Sunnydale. Joyce and Buffy had moved to the quaint little college town after the girl's minor stint in a psychiatric hospital (Sam still fumed whenever he remembered how obstinate the staff had been about releasing his sister) and neither of the boys had ever really seen what the town had to offer. The younger brother's weekend forays from Stanford had mainly consisted of spending time with his sister and her mother, particularly since he was still not on speaking terms with his father.

Downtown ended up being delightful for the both of them but for vastly different reasons. Sam thought the place resembled a small version of downtown Palo Alto, the city where Stanford was located, with its kitschy boutiques and cafes. Dean was enthralled by the plethora of very attractive coeds with whom he exchanged unabashedly lustful glances.

They were busy perusing the local paper hoping to find an occurrence strange enough to constitute a hunt when Buffy called and asked them to pick her up from school. She'd apparently been studying with Willow and had lost track of the time. Since it was dark (and both brothers were inclined to be overprotective) they headed over without complaint.

* * *

"So you ready to tell us what was up with last night?" Dean asked as he pulled away from the school curb.

"Nope!"

Sam turned towards her, concern wrinkling his forehead. "He didn't… I mean, well, he wasn't…" He wasn't sure how to bring up the possibility that his sister had been threatened with assault.

Buffy snorted. "No. It wasn't like _that_."

"Then what was it? The guy jumped out of your window like the room was on fire."

"It was because of a nun-uh-yah. As in none of ya business."

"You're such a pain in the ass," Dean grumbled. Sam snorted at the tongue Buffy stuck out at her eldest brother's back.

* * *

Dean parked in the Impala in the driveway next to Joyce's weathered SUV. He stomped for the front door, Buffy still making faces at his back. Sam had joined in, and the two were hard pressed to stifle giggles every time their older brother shook his head in exasperation.

Buffy pushed forward to unlock the door. "Mom, I'm home!" she called as she stepped through.

"Us too!" added Sam.

The light was on the kitchen, an anomaly for the after-dinner hour, and it immediately drew their suspicions. They assumed Joyce was downstairs for a drink; she normally spent this portion of her evenings upstairs on her computer. Instead the siblings discovered her in the arms of a man with a hideously distorted face, her neck oozing blood. His jaws bore cruel fangs that spoke to how she'd been wounded.

Dean snapped his ivory-handled gun out from the back of his jeans, pointed, and shot three rounds. The stranger, mouth gaping, clutched the holes in his shoulder and dropped Buffy's mother.

While Sam knelt down to check on Joyce, Buffy grabbed the intruder's lapels and hauled him towards the front door. Her brothers glanced at each another, astonished; their tiny little sister was somehow manhandling a fully grown man with ease. Dean temporarily shelved his apprehension to follow her, muzzle pointed at the stranger's skull.

After her brother opened the front door, Buffy hurled the man dozen feet off of her porch. "You're not welcome here," she snarled. "You come near us and I'll _kill you_."

Dumbfounded, Dean watched the stranger's face warp to that of a normal man. The creature did nothing but stare at Buffy as she spun on her heel and ran back to the kitchen. Once she was out of sight, he glanced over at Dean. Buffy's brother cocked the hammer of his gun and the thing fled.

Dean rushed back inside, slamming the door closed on his way, and heard a frantic Sam speaking to the 911 operator. "1630 Revello Drive!" he said as Buffy handed him a towel to staunch her mother's wound. "She's lost a lot of blood."

As his brother continued with a series of "yes" and "no" answers, Dean spread his arms and demanded of their sister, "How the fuck did you carry that dude like that?"

Buffy stood up and retaliated with, "Why the hell do you have a gun?"

"Was it adrenaline? Or are you on _drugs?_ "

" _Why do you have a gun_?"

"You _knew_ that guy. Who the hell is he? _What_ the hell is he?"

" _WHY DO YOU HAVE A GUN_?"

"Guys!" shouted Sam. " _Later_ , okay?"

A whining siren and the flash of red and white lights signaled the arrival of emergency personnel. Dean returned the pistol to the back of his jeans and hurried to the front door. The mystery of their sister's superhuman strength could wait until her mother was seen to. After that, however, all of them had some explaining to do.

* * *

 **Acknowledgement** : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episode, "Angel" (BtVS 1.07).


	3. Book I: Chapter 3

After being stitched up and replenished with various fluids, Joyce woke up. Unfortunately, she didn't remember anything other than inviting someone in for a study session, a person who claimed to be Buffy's friend, then assumed there must have been an accident with a barbecue fork. She was adamant, however, that they didn't own a barbecue fork.

Once Joyce was stable the siblings found themselves joined by Buffy's two friends and the librarian (another odd association that needed clarification). As Giles greeted the injured woman, Dean grabbed his sister's wrist and dragged her down the hallway. Sam, Xander, and Willow followed. "Okay," hissed Buffy's eldest brother as he cornered her into the wall, " _now_ tell me why you Hulked out at the house!"

"While you're at it," Sam tossed in, "tell us why you lied about knowing Rupert Giles."

Buffy glanced up from one looming, cross-armed brother to the other, attempted to signal for help from her stupefied friends, then mimicked the two men's autocratic stances. "No, _you_ tell me why you're hiding firearms in your underpants! What, you finally go all out delinquent?"

"This isn't the time for that!" Dean refuted.

"This is the _perfect_ time for that!"

The sound of a disapproving Englishman clearing his throat halted the impending argument. "As I am the only one here who knows the entire truth," Giles stated quietly, "I can shed light on all of your secrets. However, I would prefer to do so away from prying eyes and ears."

"No!" cried Buffy. "I invited Angel into my home even _after_ I knew what he was and who he was. This is my fault!" After a pause, she quietly added, "I… I didn't do anything about it because had feelings for him."

"If you care for somebody you care about them," Willow said gently from around Dean's side. "You can't change that by—"

"—Killing them? Maybe not. But it's a start." Buffy used her preternatural strength to shoulder her way through the large wall of brothers and started to storm off.

His own reflexes honed by years of training and hunting, Dean had no problem snatching his sister's upper arm and preventing her flight. "You are not killing anybody!" he whispered harshly. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

With one quick motion Buffy flipped her brother's grip to her advantage and twisted it to his back. She slammed him against the wall, face first. "I don't have time for your crap, Dean," she growled. "I've got a vampire to kill." She shot a glare at Sam. He immediately lifted his hands up in surrender and took a step back.

"Vampire?" Dean scoffed, his squished mouth slightly mangling his words. "Vampires are extinct."

"Well why don't you come with me and tell him that yourself."

"Fine, I will. Leggo of my arm!"

"Buffy, no!" Giles cried. He positioned himself in front of her as she released her hold on her brother and spun around to leave. "This is no ordinary vampire. He knows you, he's faced the Three and lived! This will take _more_ than a simple stake."

"I know. I'm borrowing the crossbow."

"Got one in the trunk," Dean offered.

"What? Why? Why the hell do you have a _crossbow_ in your _trunk_?" Before he could answer, Buffy placed her hand on her brother's sternum and pushed him against the wall again. "Wait a sec. Why did you say that vampires are _extinct_ and not _imaginary_?"

"Because we're _hunters_ , Buffy! We've been ganking monsters since we were kids! If there really are vampires out there then _we're_ gonna go kill them, not you. C'mon Sam."

"Oh no you're not," Buffy amended belligerently. Dean's eyes bulged as his effort to push his sister's hand away had no effect. "If there are vampires out there _I'm_ going to take care of them because _I'm_ the Slayer!"

"The what?" asked Dean.

"Slayer?" asked Sam.

"What's a _hunter_?" asked Xander.

"Oh, dear Lord," sighed Giles as he rubbed his forehead.

* * *

Buffy didn't leave much time for the proffered elucidation, but in lieu of details she took the fact that Dean knew what he was doing when it came to monsters and insisted he immediately drive her to the local club, The Bronze. As she'd been attacked there previously, and been saved by this Angel thing during said attack, she theorized his home must be nearby. Before anyone could stop them, Dean and Buffy sprinted off, jammed themselves into the Impala, and drove away.

"Great," Sam grumbled from the hospital curb. "Now what?"

Breathing hard from running after his wayward Slayer, Giles managed to huff out, "Perhaps… you'd like… more of an explanation… than your brother."

"If you're going to have a heart attack this would be the best place to do it," Xander quipped.

While the librarian treated the teenaged boy to a scathing glare, Sam agreed to Giles' offer. "Long as you're sure they're going to be okay," he said worriedly.

"No, I'm not," Giles grimly replied as he straightened. "But I'm _fairly certain_ a hunter and the Slayer can handle a single vampire. We should go back inside and watch over Joyce whilst I explain everything."

* * *

Dean picked The Bronze's front doors and he and his sister stole inside. Other than to verify available weapons the two siblings hadn't spoken on the ride over. Getting rid of a vampire with in and out privileges to the Summers' home took precedence over their squabble.

"How do we kill it?" Dean whispered as they tiptoed around the upstairs.

"Stake to the heart," his sister answered in the same hushed tone. "Any kind of wood will do."

"Pool cues?"

"Should work."

As they approached the staircase, Dean asked, "When were you going to tell us about this… whatever this is?"

"When were you going to tell me that you knew how to kill monsters?"

Dean sighed. "Old man's orders. He didn't want you and Joyce getting caught up in our crap."

"Well, the crap found me anyways. Good job, dad." She paused and crouched down, gesturing for her brother to follow. "Shh. You hear that?"

"Someone's by the stage."

Much to her brother's irritation, Buffy stood up and walked openly down the clanging metal steps. "I know you're there," she announced. "And I know what you are."

"Do you?" came a voice from the shadows. Buffy's vampiric paramour strolled out from the backstage curtains. Dean assumed Angel was good-looking enough, but he thought the man's expression might be permanently set to "brood." Odd match to his perennially optimistic sister.

Dean only half-listened to their inane banter; a small, shuffling noise came from the opposite side of the room. He crept across the upper floor to get a better look.

The hunter's attempt at reconnaissance were sidelined by an inhuman snarl. When he whipped his gaze downwards he saw that the vampire's face was horribly altered, just as it had been at the Summers' home. Angel's brow ridges now protruded to form an angry, demonic mask and his teeth had grown large and feral. A grimly determined Buffy was aiming her crossbow at his chest.

Angel leapt onto the pool table and the Slayer fired. The vampire dodged, his unnatural agility enabling him to spring up to the second floor. Dean grabbed the closest chair and smashed the creature on the side of the head, sending him tumbling back down to land at Buffy's feet.

Dean's sister planted a foot on the vampire's chest and aimed her reloaded crossbow. Swiftly, Angel snatched her ankle and tossed her away. She rolled neatly on the green of the adjacent pool table and regained her feet on the floor at the other side. Despite himself, Dean was impressed with Buffy's moves.

Distracted as he was by the sight of his sister planting her fist in Angel's face, Dean failed to notice the thing sneaking up behind him until it was too late. The arm that snaked around his neck was nubile but abnormally strong. His suspicions regarding his captor's lack of humanity were confirmed when fangs scraped gently along the upper curve of his ear.

"My, aren't you a delicious one," Dean's captor murmured. The voice was high pitched and girly; it conveyed a jarringly false sense of innocence. "Since you came in with the Slayer, I bet you two are _friends_."

"Nope," he lied. "Just some dude she picked up on the street."

"Liar, liar!" she sang. "Let's allow the Slayer to be eaten, shall we? Then once my lovely Angelus has finished, the two of us can have _you_ for dessert."

Dean opened his mouth to retort and the female vampire clubbed him over the head. His chin hit the metal railing with a loud clang. The last thing the hunter heard was Buffy shrieking his name.

* * *

"So after you guys lived with Buffy's mom for a couple of years, your dad took you around the country and you guys hunted _monsters_?"

"Yup," said Sam.

"Now your dad's missing," Xander continued to summarize, "and you and your bro are trying to find him?"

"Pretty much."

"You had a full scholarship to _Stanford_?" Willow squeaked.

Xander stared at her, incredulous. "He says he's been hunting monsters since he was a kid, and you're asking about his school."

"W-Well we've got monsters here. That's nothing special. Oh my gosh," Willow panicked as she looked up at Sam, "what did you do to get in? What extra-curricular activities did you list? What was your SAT score? What was on your essay?" She grabbed the sides of his arms. "Tell me your secrets!"

Willow's attempt to shake out Sam's collegiate admission techniques was interrupted by the sudden arrival of a worried Giles. He glanced back at the doorway to Joyce's room and gestured furtively for them to follow him down the hallway. "We have a problem. It wasn't Angel who attacked Buffy's mother; it was Darla."

"Who's that?" asked Sam as they hurried out of the hospital.

"Bad news," Xander replied.

"So either Buffy's off to kill the wrong vamp or there's a trap."

"Most likely both," Giles said. "Let's hurry. The Bronze isn't too far."

* * *

Sam began sprinting once they got close enough to the club and the explosive pops of guns being fired echoed down the road. He tore open the door to see his sister hiding behind a bullet ridden pillar. A lithe, blonde vampire joyfully wielding two automatic pistols was standing on the bar trying to mow Buffy down. Above them Sam could see Dean's arm hanging limply from the second floor. He crouched down and snuck inside. Giles, Willow, and Xander followed his lead.

"Buffy's trapped," Sam told them as quietly as he could over the gunfire. "We need a distraction."

"Buffy!" Willow called loudly much to the hunter's surprise. She stuck her head over the lip of the pool table they were hiding behind. "It wasn't Angel who attacked your mom! It was Darla!" The female vampire heard, laughed maliciously, and trained her guns on the new arrivals. Sam swiftly pulled Willow underneath the overhang as the thing pulled the triggers.

The distraction served to give Buffy the opportunity to try and knock Darla from her perch. She grabbed the closest piece of furniture and ended up flinging a small side table at her. Darla ducked, briefly stilling the flow of gunfire, and let out an animalistic snarl. She prepared to leap down and was slammed back by a crossbow bolt to the chest.

The proceeding lull allowed Sam to sneak by and climb the stairs to check on Dean while Giles stole away behind the stage. Darla straightened, the bolt protruding from her sternum, and giggled. "Close, but no heart." She yanked out the stick and flung it off to one side. With one quick motion the vampire dropped one gun, reloaded the other, and resumed firing at the Slayer.

Thankfully, Dean was merely unconscious. Sam checked around for injuries and found only a drying mat of blood from a blow to his head. An additional movement caught the corner of the hunter's eye and he watched the other vampire, Angel, snatch up the discarded crossbow bolt and creep up behind Darla.

"Come on, Buffy!" the female vampire taunted. "Take it like a man."

The stage lights suddenly began flickering. Darla reflexively snapped her eyes over in confusion. Sam was surprised to see Angel leap up onto the bar and plunge the discarded quarrel into the female vampire's back. She turned, the incredulity at his betrayal writ large on her expression. "Angel…?" she wondered sorrowfully before falling over and disintegrating.

Angel hopped down as Buffy inched out from behind a couch. They exchanged inscrutable looks before the vampire turned and walked steadily out of the club.

Dean let out a groan. "Stupid vampire bitch," he grumbled as Sam helped him to his feet.

"Well, vamp bitch is, quite literally, dust."

"Good. I'm gonna piss in it," he declared as the two brothers lumbered down the staircase.

Their sister met them at the bottom and stated, "That's why I don't like _guns_."

Her friends rushed over to make sure she was all right. Amidst Buffy's repeated assurances, Giles walked over to Dean and said, "I think it would be best if the three of you talked this over before you leave town."

The eldest brother locked eyes with his sister. "Yeah, we will."

* * *

They decided to meet at the local park. The hour was late enough for it to be unoccupied and the open space was comforting. For the better part of an hour Buffy told her tale of vampiric battles, steady new friendships, and how she was forced to juggle her duties as the Slayer and as a standard California high school girl. Afterwards she hung disconsolately from the swing and concluded her tale with, "So that's it."

"Well, that explains your stint at the mental joint," Dean commented from the bottom of the slide. Buffy kicked a rock at him. "Ow."

"So you didn't get a say in it at all?" Sam asked. He was far too tall for any of the playground equipment and had settled for leaning against the swing supports.

"Nope. Just one day, guy shows up, says I'm Chosen, and uber Buffy was born."

"That sucks."

"Yeah," sighed his sister. "Now everyone thinks I'm some crazy psycho violent delinquent when I actually saved them from being vampire chow. By the way, you can _not_ tell mom about this."

"What? Why?"

"Because she'd freak! You think she'd be thrilled to find out dad was a monster hunter? And that you knew how to fire a gun at, like, five?"

Dean smirked. "Gotcha there, Sammy. Besides," he said to Buffy, "we get it. Why do you think we never told you about our gig?"

"Well, okay. I _guess_." Buffy suddenly perked up. "Now that I know, can I hang with you guys during the summer instead of Hank? Mom said he's starting seeing someone that's, like, your age and, you know, ick."

"Wow," Dean said, impressed. "Go Hank."

Sam, however, ignored Buffy's stepfather's midlife crisis and cautiously told his sister, "I don't know. Let's figure it out after we find dad."

"Well, then let me come with. He's my dad too."

It was Dean who denied her this time. "Not a chance, Buff'. Stick here for now, okay?"

"Have some normal life," added Sam. "Trust me. Enjoy it as much as you can."

"Besides, Joyce would kill us."

"You scared of my mom?" Buffy teased.

"Damn straight," Dean said firmly. "Remember that time I snuck a girl into her guest room? Joyce nearly clobbered me with a frying pan."

"That was because that skank tried to steal her jewelry," Sam clarified.

"Fine," Buffy pouted. "But now that all our secrets are out you two have to text and email, like, all the time and let me know what's going on."

"Long as you promise to do the same, _especially_ if something comes up around here that we can help with."

"Okay." The youngest sibling hopped off the swing and spread her arms. "Group hug to seal the deal?"

Sam eagerly stepped into the embrace, and when Dean merely stood and stared reluctantly Buffy reached out and forced him to join in. "Oh, come on!" he objected, his attempts to wriggle out of the arms of his taller brother and his superpowered sister failing miserably.

"You love it," Buffy responded happily.

* * *

The brothers left early the next day despite Buffy and her friends' insistence that they try to stay for the reopening of The Bronze. Apparently the only reason it had been vacant the night before was because it was in the process of being fumigated; the _post_ fumigation party was scheduled for that evening. Dean and Sam, however, were eager to be back on the search for their father.

"Here," said Sam as he placed a Blackberry in Buffy's hand. "I've programmed all our numbers in there."

His sister pocketed the phone. "You let me know if you find dad, okay?"

"Promise." Sam and Buffy shared one last hug before he entered the Impala.

Dean merely gave her one of his signature smirks from their car's driver side. "Just so you know," he warned, "I catch that Angel dude around again, he's dust."

Buffy smiled and rolled her eyes. "Don't worry. I've got it handled."

Before they could leave, Joyce hurried out from the house with a plastic bag filled with various containers of food for their trip. "I know John eats terribly, so here's some fruit, salad, and cold cuts. Should last you a couple of days at least."

"Thanks, Joyce," Sam called.

Dean eyed the meat, but muttered something about rabbit food when he spotted the rest. He tried to smile and thanked Buffy's mother anyways. "Much appreciated."

"Oh good grief, Dean," Joyce laughed. "There are some cookies, too."

The eldest brother beamed at her. "Now we're talkin'!"

"You two be careful, all right?"

Sam and Dean promised and gave significant glances to their sister, warning her to do the same. Then Dean revved the engine of the Impala and the brothers drove off. Joyce watched them go worriedly. "I hope they find him. Goodness knows what John's gotten himself into this time."

"They'll be okay, mom," assured Buffy. "Trust me. Speaking of dad," she said as they headed back inside, "can we talk about the summer?"

"I know what you're going to ask, and I don't think—"

"Sam will be there." _Probably_ , she added to herself.

"Really now? That's a different story. Let me think about it, okay? And when they find John we'll see what he thinks."

"Okay, mom. Thanks."

* * *

 **Acknowledgement** : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episode, "Angel" (BtVS 1.07).


	4. Book I: Chapter 4

(9/16/2016) A lot of the dates in this chapter are fudged. Had to spread the BtVS episodes out and scramble the SPN ones about. I've been toying with the idea of listing which episodes are mentioned, but I don't know if that would be helpful or distracting.

Thanks to **RHatch89** , **Princesakarlita411** , **wolfypoke** , and **Jennee77** for the reviews! And thanks to everyone favoriting and following!

* * *

( _Voice mailbox greeting of John Winchester_ )

This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son, Dean. 785–555–0179. He can help.

* * *

( _Text conversation between Buffy Summers and Sam Winchester._ )

BUFFY: Boo!

SAM: Hey Buff. What's up?

BUFFY: Just wanted to say hi. Got attacked by demon robot

SAM: WTF

BUFFY: Demon got into wifi then robot then fried

SAM: We just had a demon on a plane. Did u know Dean doesn't like flying?

BUFFY: No. He's a chicken

SAM: Dean said he's going to chicken you. IDK what that means

BUFFY: IDK either

SAM: Everything else ok?

BUFFY: Yup! Normal vamps n stuff. Found out teacher is a techno-pagan

SAM: What about Angel

BUFFY: Tell Dean to MYOB

SAM: LOL ok. Let us know if you need help

BUFFY: Will do. Love you guys!

SAM: Love you too Buffy

* * *

WANTED

INTERSTATE FLIGHT-MURDER

 **DEAN WINCHESTER**

DESCRIPTION:

Age: 26, Born January 24, 1979  
Sex: Male  
Height: 6 ft. 2 in.  
Race: White

Remarks: Winchester may be driving a four-door, 1967, black Chevrolet Impala.

CRIMINAL RECORD

The Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) is seeking the location of, and information about, Dean Winchester, the prime suspect in the murder of two women and the physical assault of one woman in St. Louis, MO. Winchester is also a possible suspect in several other murders.

SHOULD BE CONSIDERED ARMED AND EXTREMELY DANGEROUS

If you have any information concerning this person, please call 1–800-CALL-FBI. You may also contact contact your local FBI office or the nearest American Embassy or Consulate.

Field Office: St. Louis

* * *

( _Phone call from Joyce Summers to Dean Winchester_ )

DEAN: Hello?

JOYCE: Dean, it's Joyce. I'll get right to the point: why does the FBI think you murdered those women? ( _3 seconds of silence_ ) Dean? You still there?

DEAN: Yeah. I'm sorry, Joyce. It's just a big misunderstanding. Is Buffy around?

JOYCE: No, I purposely called while she's in school. Listen, Dean, if you're having trouble with the law then maybe it's not a good idea for her to be with you guys during the summer.

DEAN: Joyce, I promise that whatever's going on will be fixed by then. In fact, I'll bet you anything that the poster will be gone in a couple of days. Besides, be a good way to stick it to Hank tellin' him his stepdaughter's hangin' around us losers.

JOYCE: ( _exasperated sigh_ ) All right, all right. How's the search for John going?

DEAN: Lousy. Like we're one step behind him the entire time.

JOYCE: Sounds like John. Anyways, you two take care.

DEAN: Will do.

* * *

( _Text conversation between Buffy Summers and Sam Winchester_ )

BUFFY: Tell me trolls are real

SAM: WTF? Not that I know of. Why?

BUFFY: Was hoping new principal was a troll

SAM: Why?

BUFFY: So I could slay him

SAM: Dean said he'd hold him, you punch

BUFFY: Thx but if I get expelled again mom would slay ME

SAM: Haha ok. We'll look in dad's journal but I think ur SOL. Happy birthday eve, BTW

BUFFY: Thanks! Present? Tell Dean no nudie magazines!

SAM: Now he's sad

BUFFY: LOL. Anyways, c ya guys soon hopefully

SAM: Later. Love you

BUFFY: Love you guys too

* * *

( _Phone call from Sam Winchester to Buffy Summers_ )

BUFFY: Y'ello?

SAM: Buffy, _please_ tell me you've heard from dad.

BUFFY: Uh, nope! Summers base has been John Winchester free. Why? You sound like something's really wrong.

SAM: It… We… Dean… Fucking hell.

BUFFY: Whoa. Potty mouth Sam. Never thought I'd live the day.

SAM: ( _shaky sigh_ ) Buffy, Dean got electrocuted during a hunt. He had a major heart attack.

BUFFY: Oh my God!

SAM: He's alive, don't worry, but the doctors say that he's in really bad shape.

BUFFY: No. No no no no no—MOM! Mom! ( _thumps of feet running down stairs_ ) Dean got hurt! We need to go, like, today to—Sam, where are you guys?

SAM: The ass end of nowhere in Nebraska. Buffy, just call me right away if you hear from dad, okay?

BUFFY: Oh no you don't. You tell me right now where you're at so we can go see Dean and I can kick his butt for being _stupid!_

JOYCE: ( _in the background_ ) Buffy, what on Earth is going on?

SAM: Look, I've got a lead. Friend of dad's, Joshua. He's a couple of hours away and he says there might be someone there who can help us.

BUFFY: Sam…

SAM: I'll call you when we get there, okay? Don't worry. Dean will be fine.

* * *

( _Email exchange between Rupert Giles and Sam Winchester_ )

TO: rgiles  
FROM: swin0112358  
SUBJECT: Question

Hey Giles - I've run into something and I think you might be the most discreet about it. Think you can help me out?

TO: swin0112358  
FROM: rgiles  
SUBJECT: re: Question

Certainly. I'm assuming you don't want me to inform Buffy.

TO: rgiles  
FROM: swin0112358  
SUBJECT: re: re: Question

Please don't. Don't let Dean know either. He's not saying anything but I know he's worried. Yesterday we ran into a guy whose mom died exactly the way ours did, right down to the ceiling and the fire. Can you look up in your archives, see if this is some kind of weird phenomenon?

TO: swin0112358  
FROM: rgiles  
SUBJECT: re: re: re: Question

Yes. Give me a few hours.

TO: swin0112358  
FROM: rgiles  
SUBJECT: re: re: re: Question

There's nothing historically, I'm sorry, but that's just too strange a coincidence to just dismiss. Were there any other circumstances to speak of?

TO: rgiles  
FROM: swin0112358  
SUBJECT: re: re: re: re: Question

No. Not really. Thanks, Giles.

TO: swin0112358  
FROM: rgiles  
SUBJECT: re: re: re: re: re: Question

You're welcome. Let me know if there's anything else that comes to mind.

* * *

( _Conversation between Sam and Dean Winchester, Lazy T Motel, Grand Rapids, MN_ )

"Fuck, people are crazy."

"Yeah, well, you're not the one they kidnapped and wanted to _hunt_. Hey, check it out. Buffy said that they just had some kind of town wide nightmare thing. Everyone's fears came true."

"How come she's always texting you and not me?"

"Because ninety-nine percent of the time she manages to do it while we're in the car and _you're_ always driving."

"Give me that."

"Hey!"

"Looks like you and Xander share clown fear, Sammy. Better let Buffy know."

"No, don't!"

"Ah-ah-ah, that's what you get for telling her about my plane thing. And… sent. Oh, look. She called you a dork."

"Damnit Dean!"

"Oh. Wow. Holy shit. She got turned into a vampire. Hell of a nightmare."

"Poor Buffy."

"Yeah. Don't think I'd've handled it that well either, gettin' turned into a monster."

"Well, not like that's ever going to happen."

"Here's hoping. I'm gonna shower."

"Don't use up all the hot water."

"Eh."

"I'm serious, Dean! I was sitting in that cage for, like, two days!"

"Then you should have gotten up first."

* * *

( _Phone call from Rupert Giles to Sam Winchester_ )

SAM: Hello?

GILES: Sam? It's-It's Rupert. Rupert Giles.

SAM: Oh, yeah yeah yeah. How's it going? How did you get my number?

GILES: Buffy gave it to me, just in case. And, um, well we're not… not so good actually. How far are you and your brother?

SAM: We're in Utah, probably ten to twelve hours out from you guys. Why?

GILES: W-Would you mind heading here? There's… There's a problem.

DEAN: ( _in the background_ ) What's going on Sammy?

SAM: ( _to Dean_ ) It's _Sam_. And it's Giles. He's wondering if we can head to Sunnydale. ( _to Giles_ ) We can head over. We're in between jobs. What is this about?

GILES: It… It would be better to explain when you get here. Buffy's in danger, mortal danger.

SAM: We'll be there by morning.

* * *

 **Acknowledgement** : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episode, "Phantom Traveler" (SPN 1.04).

 **Author's Note** : Dean's FBI wanted poster was designed after the ones I found online for some scary people. The most recent was the Boston Marathon bomber, the other was for the movie version of Richard Kimble (aka Harrison Ford). The phone number is real but I really don't recommend actually trying it out 0_o

Also, I forgot Snyder showed up all the way in Season One. Armin Shimerman!


	5. Book I: Chapter 5

(9/26/2016) I'm sorry for the confusion, but I decided to shorten the chapters. The Prophecy Girl one was getting super long. I don't know about anyone else, but revising something as long as a Hermione Granger essay is a little daunting. Anyways, enjoy!

Thanks to **Princesakarlita411** and **RHatch89** for the reviews! And thank you all favoriting and/or following!

* * *

They made it to Sunnydale at about 9am, wired and anxious. Their sister in "mortal danger" had Dean streaking down I–15 at perilous speeds with Sam, for once, not harping at him about the possible consequences. They'd stopped only twice in order to gas up and imbibe caffeine before resuming their reckless trip. Luck spared them from the attention of both the Nevada and the California State Patrols.

Dean dropped Sam off on Revello Drive to see to Buffy claiming that he had no idea how to handle the "girly shit." The elder brother then headed for the school hoping that, despite it being Saturday, Giles would still be hanging about the library.

After parking Dean spotted Willow and Cordelia entering the building, the latter gesticulating angrily at nothing. He jogged up after them hoping that the redhead would know where the Watcher was at.

They were looking into a classroom window when the hunter finally caught up to them. "They're watching cartoons," Cordelia remarked. "That's so cu—" she cut herself off and frowned at Willow. "It's not cute. It's annoying. I'm annoyed!"

"Right," agreed her bemused companion. "I'm furious."

Cordelia continued rambling about the detrimental tendencies of men while rummaging through her purse for keys. As she was unlocking the door Dean strode up. Before he could give any sort of greeting, he caught sight of the blood pooling on the floor near the girls' shoes. "No, don't!" he cried as he rushed to try to stop them. "Wait—"

The door fell open outwards… along with the body of a teenage boy. Cordelia let out a bloodcurdling scream as Willow gaped into the room at the carnage. Three girls and two boys (including the one on the floor) lay about the room in various positions of repose. Bloody gaping wounds had been torn into each of their necks.

"Hey," Dean said gently to the shrieking Cordelia. He shook her shoulder with increasing violence until she quieted and looked up at him. Her tears had streaked mascara down her cheeks. "You have a phone?" When she nodded he instructed, "Go outside, call 911, okay?"

Cordelia breathed in a sob and ran for the exit. Once she was gone, the hunter checked on Willow. He was distressed to find the redheaded girl standing in the middle of the classroom-turned-abattoir staring mutely at the bodies of her schoolmates. Dean picked his way over cautiously while asking, "Willow? You okay?"

"I come here every day," she murmured. "This isn't their world. They shouldn't be like this. I come here every day."

Shock, Dean inferred. He slowly wrapped his hand around her wrist. "Come on, Willow. This ain't a good place to be."

Dean pulled the girl out of the school just as the first of the emergency responders arrived. As Cordelia was a sobbing mess and Willow had been rendered mute he was the only one left to explain what they had found. The hunter honestly didn't think he'd ever improvised so many lies so quickly.

In all the hunts his father had taken him on Dean had never seen creatures so brazen. Most preferred to kill as surreptitiously as possible; increased attention on their misdeeds amped the likelihood of a hunter taking notice. With Buffy being the Slayer and in "mortal danger" this open massacre couldn't have been a coincidence.

News vans were starting to congregate in the parking lot and Dean wasn't eager to test the presumption the authorities had regarding his death. A revived Cordelia assured him that she could drive herself home (although she put it as, "I'm not leaving my car here so some bum can sleep in it!") which left him to care for Willow. Before he could find out what it was that had Giles up in arms he would need to ensure the girl's wellbeing.

* * *

Joyce was bewildered to see Sam, but glad as always. She invited him in and when he asked about Buffy her mother said she was upstairs.

Knocking on his sister's bedroom door brought no answer. When Sam risked peeping inside he found a morose teenager sitting up in bed and staring blankly at the wall. "Hey," he called softly.

Buffy gave him a sad little smile. "Hi, Sam. Why are you here?"

Her brother walked in and closed the door. "Rupert called us. He was worried about something. Mind telling me what's up?"

"It's… nothing."

Sam huffed out a laugh and countered, "You suck at lying and you look like someone died."

"Not yet."

Startled, Sam quickly walked over and sat next to his sister on her bed. "What do you mean, 'not yet'?"

She sighed. "Giles was reading something called the Parmesan Codex—"

"Parmesan?" Sam asked, confused.

"I dunno, something like that. Apparently it says that tonight I get to face the Master and die."

"Buffy, oh God." Sam reached out and drew his sister into a tight embrace. She merely lay against him and her apathy troubled her brother more than the supposed prophecy. "It's just a book. You can't think something's definitively going to happen because of a _book_."

"Well, Giles and Angel both seem to think so."

"Angel? Don't tell me that guy is still around."

Buffy backed out of his arms. "Yeah, so?"

"Don't tell Dean. He wants to stake him and then watch the ashes swirl down the toilet."

"Ew! A used toilet…?"

"Yeah, we shouldn't get into the details."

This time Buffy's smile was bright with humor and Sam breathed a small sigh of relief. As long as his sister had some spark left it meant she hadn't fully accepted the certainty of her demise. Sam was prepared to launch into the tale of their racist ghost-truck encounter as a distraction when Joyce popped her head inside the room. "Pancakes, you two?"

"Sounds great, Joyce."

"Sure, mom."

After her mother left the room, Sam saw that Buffy was resuming her flow of maudlin thoughts. He looked around for inspiration and spotted a beautiful white gown that was hanging outside her closet. "What's that for?"

"Spring fling," his sister sighed. "The dance I don't have a date to. Mom thinks I should go anyways."

"Sounds like a good plan to me. Besides, I like your dress."

* * *

Dean arrived after lunch, the signature rumble of the Impala drifting in through the open windows. Sam bounded out of the house demanding, "Dude! Where have you been?"

The eldest of the three siblings was looking uncharacteristically haggard. "There was a massacre at the school," Dean answered quietly. "Vamps. Willow and that Cordelia chick found the bodies."

"Holy crap. Those two are okay, right?"

"Pretty sure Cordelia's fine. Willow, not so much. Buffy inside? You find out what's going on?"

"Apparently there's some kind of prophecy that says she's going to die tonight after facing someone called the 'Master.'"

"Oh man. I saw that name in dad's journal. Guy's the oldest known vampire."

"What?"

"Was looking up vamps since our little sister is now a freaking 'Vampire Slayer.' Dad thought they were extinct but he still wrote down anything he found."

"How come you didn't tell me?"

"Because it was right in the middle of that stupid shit with psycho-psychic boy and I forgot, _okay_?"

Sam shrugged and sighed. "Fine, whatever. We need to talk to Rupert—er, Giles."

"Why're we callin' him by his last name now?"

"Buffy made me. She said 'Rupert' sounded like 'Poo-pert.'"

Dean stared at his brother. "Dude, is our sister _sixteen_ or _six_?"

* * *

The incident at the high school was too sensationally horrifying to be ignored by the local media. Rather than chance Buffy getting a nasty surprise off of the evening news Dean pulled her to the backyard and detailed what had happened. She immediately called Willow, but Mrs. Rosenberg informed her that her daughter needed time to contemplate what she had seen before visitors would be allowed.

"'Contemplate'?" Dean asked incredulously.

Joyce sighed as she handed Dean a sandwich. "Mrs. Rosenberg is a bit on the, um… _intellectual_ side."

"Don't worry," assured Buffy. "Soon as Willow asks to see someone her mom will cave."

"Warrrer fuu doin chunigh?" Dean wondered through a mouthful of bread and bacon.

"Dude!" Sam cried as he was spattered by crumbs.

Baffled, his sister said to Dean, "What?"

Joyce patted the eldest brother on the shoulder. "Swallow, dear."

Dean did as he was told, then asked, "What're you doing tonight?"

"She's got a dance to go to," beamed Buffy's mother.

"She's got a nice dress and everything," added Sam.

Dean peered questioningly at his brother before taking another bite. He sighed in contentment; Joyce always made the best sandwiches.

"I don't know," Buffy murmured.

"Oh, go," her mother insisted. "In fact, now that your brothers are here they can be your dates!"

"What?" the trio of siblings asked simultaneously.

Joyce grasped Sam's left and Dean's right arms and pulled them up. They unwillingly stood as she said, "Two handsome boys on your arm will make quite an impression! No one needs to know who they really are."

"Mom," Buffy argued, "Dean looks too old."

"Hey!" the eldest brother objected. "Wait," he reconsidered, "I don't mind. I prefer my manly maturity."

"Dork."

"Well, what about Sam?" asked Joyce.

"He's… too tall?" tried her daughter.

Shaking her head, Joyce let Dean go but dragged Sam with her out of the room. "Come on. I'm sure the local tuxedo place will have something in your size; not many people are your height." Sam desperately mouthed, _Help me_! as he was pulled away.

"See ya later, Sammy!" Dean called cheerfully.

"Looking forward to our date!" added Buffy.

* * *

Buffy left Dean to his own devices as she prepared hair, makeup, and outfit for the dance. So far she'd managed to put on a brave face for her family, but she was alone now and could indulge in her despair.

At least she wanted to.

The tears just wouldn't come. It was surreal, this thing that was fated to happen, and nothing in her tragically short life could have prepared her to know what to do with just hours left before her death. Instead she felt numb, distant, her true self walled away screaming while her mask put on mascara and eyeliner and a beautiful white gown.

It really was a nice dress.

The loud wolf whistles of her eldest brother signified the return of Sam and her mother. Shortly afterwards, Dean was busting a gut laughing while their brother silently took the abuse (probably with his eyes rolled and his middle finger jutted upwards). Buffy gave a small chuckle. At least _they_ weren't affected by her impending doom.

The Slayer glanced at the clock and grabbed a coat. It didn't quite match her dress, but it would serve to keep her warm. She laid it over her arm and headed for the stairs.

When the others caught sight of her they were all smiles. Her mother placed her hands over her mouth, gasping over how pretty she looked, and a wonderfully tuxedoed Sam went up a few steps to hold out an elbow for her to take. Dean, however, looked both admiring and threatening; Buffy pitied any boy that would have tried to dance with her.

"Oh, let me take a picture!" Buffy's mother exclaimed. She rushed off to grab her camera.

Dean began sniggering. "What?" Sam groused.

"You should see you two," the eldest brother guffawed. "It's like the Jolly Green Giant standing next to a pea."

Buffy's mother rushed back in, camera in hand, when Dean started cursing at the top of his lungs. She found him hopping up and down on one leg clutching his shin while her daughter and her younger (unofficial) stepson looked on, satisfactorily.

"Oh good grief," she sighed. "Can't leave you guys alone for just one minute."

* * *

Joyce loaned Sam the SUV to take Buffy to the dance (which was apparently being held at The Bronze) while Dean claimed he was heading out for a more adult pastime: cruising the local bars. In truth the younger siblings were heading to Willow's to offer some comfort and the eldest, after placing a few calls, decided to head to the school library. It seemed that Giles was continuing to research in a last ditch attempt to find a loophole out of the prophecy.

Sam made the mistake of somehow engaging Mrs. Rosenberg in the debate between free-will and determinism and ended up sending the woman away in a huff. Apparently having a living, breathing example of free-will standing in front of her flew in the face of all she believed. Willow later explained her mother would forget the incident; Mrs. Rosenberg had the much practiced skill of blocking out those things she found unpleasant. Just in case, however, Sam returned to the car.

Exhausted, the hunter inadvertently found himself considering a minute's nap in the driver's seat. They hadn't done much in terms of rest the night before and the busyness of the previous hours hadn't helped. Sam closed his eyes.

 _Buffy was walking down a stone corridor lit with torches. She held the hand of a boy. No, not a boy; a_ monster _with a boy's face. They arrived in the cavern where the Master's hideous form had been trapped for decades. He mocked the Slayer, taunted her until she entered his prison and he could manipulate her into his arms. His teeth sank into Buffy's neck and he drank. When he was done, he dropped her body face first into the water and strode regally from the room._

Sam woke with a gasp feeling as if knives were stabbing into his head. He tried to think through the pain to solve the conundrum he now had.

Buffy was stubborn. Granted all three siblings were hard-headed, but their sister was the worst. She was the baby, she'd gotten her way more often than not, and John had never gotten the chance to subject her to the strict, military-style discipline that his sons were used to submitting to. If Sam tried to turn Buffy away from her course tonight, whatever that course was, he knew she'd immediately balk and dig her heels in. He had no idea what to do and very little time to figure it out.

A few minutes after the throbbing pain receded Buffy got back into the SUV. Sam noticed that his sister was different. She still exuded misery, the certainty of her death affirmed in her mind, but there was now a raging fury layered on top. Her brother breathed a sigh of relief as he started the engine. Whatever Willow said had given his sister motivation to fight. He'd take that over passivity any day.

"She okay?" Sam tentatively asked as he drove away from the Rosenberg's.

"Yes."

"And…?"

Buffy sighed. "Before today there was such a clear line, you know? We did our slayage-slash-hunting thing and they had their, you know, normal boring lives. Like there was this invisible wall. And-And now there's a bloody, gaping _hole_ in that wall and it sucks."

"Welcome to most of our world," her brother said stiffly. "Every monster we go after we find because they've been snacking on someone's mom or girlfriend or boyfriend or whatever."

"Yeah but they're not your—" Buffy clamped her mouth shut. Her brothers had already seen that invisible wall shattered. For Dean it had happened when his mother had been brutally eviscerated and burned; for Sam (who was only a baby when Mary Winchester died) it had been when his fiancée had met the same fate. "How do you deal with it?" she finally asked in a small voice.

Sam sighed. "You remember that whatever happens isn't really your fault, that the bad guys are the bad guys for a reason. You also remember that you're _saving lives,_ no matter how much it might seem otherwise."

They drove in silence for a few minutes, each lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Sam asked, "Uh, are we still going to the dance?"

"No. Take me to the school. I need to go do something."

* * *

Dean parked the Impala on the street and hurried inside the library. He was there just in time to catch the tail end of a conversation Giles was having with an exotic young woman that the hunter eyed covetously. "You got anything?" Dean asked.

"No," Giles responded, frustrated. "Between myself and Miss Calendar, however, we've managed to figure out that one of the Master's lackeys is most likely in the body of a child."

"'Miss,' huh?" Dean gave the woman his best, smoldering smile as he sat down at the library table. He got a wry smirk in return.

"Yes. As in Miss Calendar, the computer science teacher."

"You must be a smart lady."

Giles dropped a pile of large, antiquated books on the table directly in between Dean and Jenny Calendar. "I believe we have something we should be doing right now. Or rather, _I_ should be doing."

Dean lifted his eyebrows at the Watcher. "Where you headin' off to?"

Giles adjusted his glasses and proclaimed, "Buffy will not face the Master. I shall."

"And, what, break a hip swinging a sword?" the hunter stood up and held out his hand. "Give _me_ the location. I'll do it."

"I may be Buffy's Watcher but _you_ are her brother. Out of the two of us who is she likely to miss more?"

"That's bullshit and you know it. I'm younger and faster and I'm more likely to kick this vamp's ass, so tell me where the thing is!"

Dean was taken aback when the librarian authoritatively poked him in the chest. "I am a _Watcher_. I have been training all my life to face these sort of dangers under the best tutelage England has to offer, not some bumbling hunter with no formal training and a complete lack of knowledge of what he is about to charge into! I am the one that is going to defeat the Master and that is _final_."

"No," said Buffy quietly but firmly. "It isn't."

She'd arrived unnoticed apart from Miss Calendar (who didn't think the two tossing testosterone about would have listened anyways). Her chin was up and her eyes blazing as she looked first at Giles and then at her brother. " _I'm_ going," she declared.

"Like hell you are," Dean said forcefully.

"Buffy," Giles pleaded as he walked slowly towards his young charge, "I will not send you out there to die. What you said before: you were right. I've waded about in these old books for so long I've forgotten what the real world is like. It's time I found out."

"No," Dean scoffed, " _I'm_ going. Buffy, this is just another hunt. I got the best chance of getting out of there."

"Neither of you are going," his sister stared firmly. " _I'm_ the Slayer. This is how it's going to be."

"I don't care!" Giles cried. "I'm going, and nothing you say will change my mind."

"I know," the teenaged girl said softly before punching the man unconscious. Miss Calendar shot up out of her chair.

"Uh-uh," growled Dean as he backed away. "Don't you _dare_ —" With a second swing, Buffy's brother joined the librarian on the floor.

Buffy sighed down at Dean and her Watcher. "I knew they were up to something stupid. If my other brother walks in tell him that these guys did something cool other than fall over after one punch."

"You can't blame them for wanting to protect you," Miss Calendar said gently.

"No, I can't," said Buffy as she turned to leave.

"You fight the Master," her teacher called worriedly, "you'll die."

"Maybe," the Slayer replied, her hand on the door. "Maybe I'll take him with me."

* * *

 **Acknowledgement** : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episode, "Prophecy Girl" (BtVS 1.12).

 **Author's Note** : I smooshed together some of the dialogue with Giles for Dean's sake.

Also, there's not much to go on with Mrs. Rosenberg, but she sort of struck me as the completely logical type. Free-will being the construct of the social whatever something or other.


	6. Book I: Chapter 6

(10/5/2016) So, updates to get fewer for the next few months. Finishing out my last few Master's classes online so I can be done with it and rake in the moolah. Basically everything I've been writing in my "spare" time has been pedagogical and I'm totally afraid that in the student haze I might accidentally post my essay here and my chapter there and WOW that would be interesting.

Smoochies to **RHatch89** and **thedarkpokemaster** (hi there!) for the reviews. And if you're favoriting and/or following, feel free to leave a bit of a hello!

* * *

Sam gave his sister ten minutes to do whatever it was she'd planned on doing before following her. Upon entering the library he found a black haired woman dragging a dazed Giles to a chair and Dean prostrate on the floor. "What the hell happened?"

"Buffy went to take on the Master," the woman explained anxiously. " _Alone_. I'm assuming you're her other brother?"

"Uh, yeah," he replied as he knelt by Dean. "I'm Sam."

"Jenny Calendar."

Sam nodded briefly in acknowledgement. "We're going to need help. Can you contact her friends, tell them to meet us here?"

"Certainly, but what is it that you think we can do?"

As Sam hauled his brother to the chair next to Giles, he firmly proclaimed, " _Anything_ to make sure she doesn't die tonight."

* * *

Several minutes later, a bleary but coherent Giles found himself busy informing Xander and Willow about the prophecy. Sam had detailed the dream he'd had in Willow's driveway and was now behind the circulation desk arguing fiercely with his brother regarding its validity. "You _sure_ you weren't just having some kinda nightmare because of what Jeeves said?" Dean asked skeptically.

"It's Giles," Sam corrected impatiently, "and _no_. C'mon, I think I know where she's at."

"You _think_? Or you _know_?"

"Okay, here's my question," came Miss Calendar's voice as Sam silently fumed over his brother's obstinance. "The Hellmouth opens… where? If the Master's underground somewhere, then it's where he's at, right? We find the Hellmouth, we find the Master."

"And _Buffy_ ," an irate Xander added.

"Good point," Giles said in response to both statements. "Let's check through the Black Histories, and, uh, Willow?" He pointed to the nearest computer. "Check the town histories."

As the others set to their assigned tasks, Xander began storming off towards the exit. "Where the hell are you going?" Dean wondered as the boy passed.

"You guys do that stuff," the boy answered, gesturing about, "and I'm going to see if I can get faster answers from _Angel_."

"Not alone you're not," Buffy's eldest brother cautioned. He leapt over the desk.

" _I'll_ go," Sam said as he took the more traditional way around the barrier.

"What? Why?"

"One, because I'm pretty sure you're going to stake the guy soon as you see him; and two, I know what the place the Master's at is supposed to look like. Angel tries to screw us over I'll dust him."

"Fine," Dean groused. "I'll get everyone hooked up with weapons. Whoever gets there first makes sure Buffy doesn't go into that room."

Xander and Sam both nodded in agreement and headed out. Dean took stock of Giles' office arsenal and called out, "So what happens if this Master dude gets out? Why're we so freaked out about it?"

"The only way he can get out is if the Hellmouth is opened," Miss Calendar answered as she pulled a book from the large collection Giles had stacked on the table.

The hunter fiddled with a crossbow, making minor adjustments to improve its accuracy. "How big is this thing anyways?"

"I don't know," Giles replied irritably as he flipped furiously through an ancient tome. "Hellmouth sized?"

* * *

"This guy lives in a sewer?" Sam asked as they slogged through the muck. He swept his flashlight around the tunnel to ensure neither of them walked through anything questionable. Belatedly, he remembered that he was still wearing the rented tux and tried to take extra care where he stepped.

"Sort of," replied Xander. "It's an abandoned water main. Thus no stench-o-rama. Here it is," the boy stated as they arrived at a nondescript maintenance door. He reached out and pounded on the metal. Xander gave Angel around half a second to respond before he turned the knob and strode inside.

Sam sighed and followed. Once he crossed the threshold he took a moment to appreciate the decor. The vampire had done quite a bit with an abandoned concrete room. It was clean and spartan, a few pieces of memorabilia poised in careful places, with a desk and a large, filled bookcase in one corner. A rumpled bed sat in an alcove. LED wall lights provided a pleasant, but not overbearing, amount of illumination.

The owner of the suite was staring at his intruders, bewildered. "Why are you here?" he asked, unnerved.

"She's gone," Xander spat.

"What do you mean?"

"Buffy. She's going right now to face the Master."

Sam saw Angel's face contort in anguish before he replaced his stoic mask. "He'll kill her."

"Rumor has it. Only we're not going to let that happen."

The vampire looked at the hunter. "You're Buffy's brother."

"I'm Sam."

"Where's the other one?"

"Not here." Anxious over the time, Sam asked belligerently, "Look, do you know where the Master's at or not?"

"I do."

"Good, then lets go."

Angel glanced at Xander. "You're a hunter. The Master will eat this one alive."

Sam turned to the boy. "Go back and help the others with whatever they're doing."

"No!" Xander exclaimed vehemently. "I can't just—"

"He's in love with her," interjected the vampire.

Xander glared furiously. "Aren't you?" The two exchanged a moment of silent comprehension before the boy acquiesced to Sam's request. "Fine," Xander snarled. He pulled a large wooden cross and a stake from inside his jacket and plopped them into Buffy's brother's hands. "Just in case."

Sam's eyebrows lifted when, as the religious icon was brought out, Angel flinched. The only creatures that he'd been taught were affected by crosses and the like were demons. What, then, was the connection with vampires…?

The hunter was jolted out of his speculation by the loud clang of Angel's door being slammed shut. Sam and the vampire eyed one another warily. "Why don't you want to kill me like your brother?" Angel finally asked.

"Because last time we were here I saw you stake Darla," Sam said. "Dean thinks you're just a vamp, a monster, but Buffy apparently has another opinion. Who're you gonna prove right?"

Angel frowned, his brow drawn tight with strain, before heading for the door. "Let's go. It's not far."

* * *

"Dude, why don't you have any firearms?"

An exasperated Giles sighed at Dean. "Mr. Winchester, this is a _school_. I risk enough bringing in bladed weapons, what do you think would happen in this day and age if I brought in a gun?"

Dean shrugged. "Fair enough. I'll go get some from my car." Amid the Watcher's stuttering protests the hunter called, "It's Saturday! Ain't nobody here."

"Idiot," muttered Giles. "Willow, Jenny: you find anything?"

"No," replied Miss Calendar.

"Maybe," Willow answered. "Remember the Harvest? The first time he tried his breaking out thing? He sent a bunch of vampires to The Bronze to get him fresh blood. He might do it again and-and-and it's going to be _full_ of people for the prom."

"We need to warn them."

"Right," Giles affirmed. "I'll stay here and keep researching. You two—" The Watcher broke off as the sound of shotgun blasts drifted down the hallway. "What the devil…?" He walked quickly to the library entrance and poked his head out.

A few moments later, a breathless Dean shoved Giles back through the doors, a duffel bag hanging from his shoulder and the source of the noise cradled in his left arm. He tossed the weapon to Giles, grabbed a metal sign pole, and jammed it into the handles while shouting, "Vampires! Like, freaking, a thousand of them! All coming this way."

With a tremendous clunk Dean dropped the bag onto the checkout desk. He pulled out a box of shells and handed them to Giles. "Might not do much for killing them, but it'll sure as hell slow them down."

"Stakes," Giles ordered at Willow as he pointed towards his office. She ran over for the weapons.

Dean rushed for the high windows in the back and leapt up to close the ones that had been opened to let in the night breeze. "They're almost at the building!" he called. "Why the fuck are they heading to this freaking spot?"

"Good Lord," Giles said as he made a horrified realization. "The Hellmouth must be _here_."

* * *

Sam and Angel came to an abrupt halt at the cavernous entrance to the Master's cell. A woman with short blonde hair was standing before it, her fingers in her pockets and a wry smile on her lips. "Hi, Sam," she greeted pleasantly.

"Meg?" he replied, astonished. "What are you doing here?"

"Friend of yours?" Angel wondered, his tone strangely hostile.

"Uh, yeah, sort of. We met several months ago." Sam turned to Meg. "This isn't a good place to be right now. If you head that way, there's a school with some people in it that can help protect you."

"Oh, Sam," Meg sighed. "Sam, Sam, Sammy, Sam. I'm right where I need to be, don't you worry your pretty little head about it. Nice suit, by the way."

When the hunter lurched forward, intending to shove the woman out of the way if need be, Angel grabbed his shoulder and growled, "She smells _wrong_. That's not a human."

"What? What the hell are you talking about?"

In response, the vampire snatched the stake that was still in Sam's hand and speared it at Meg. It imbedded into her heart and she fell backwards with an astonished grunt. The hunter pulled the wooden cross from his inside jacket pocket, staggering Angel backwards, and shouted, "Are you _insane?_ "

The vampire cautiously moved away from the hunter. He opened his mouth to explain and was stymied by a peal of mocking giggles. The two men looked towards the source and found Meg _standing_ , the stake jutting forward from her chest. As Sam watched, gaping, the woman slid the weapon from her skin and her eyes filled in with black.

"Demon," the hunter hissed. He dropped the cross and pulled his pistol from behind his back.

"Now that wasn't very nice, Angelus," pouted Meg as she dropped the wood to the grass. "You know, I think you really hurt my feelings! I guess I'm going to have to let my friends teach you a lesson." The demon turned her head to one side and called, "Sic 'em boys!"

Half a dozen vampires emerged from the shadows, their faces distorted. They rushed forward, snarling, eager for the kill. Angel picked up the cross, sucking in his breath when it scorched his hand, and slammed it into the face of the first enemy that got close. The vampire reeled away, howling, as Angel punched another on the side of the head.

Sam snatched up the abandoned cross and discovered that it repelled the creatures better than his firearm. They were flinching at the impacts but even a headshot couldn't put one down for very long. He backed away, the icon held out in front of him, and was alarmed when an arm wrapped around his throat. The gargantuan vampire immediately sank his teeth into Sam's neck while his cohorts crept forward to join in the feast.

Abruptly, both the painful bite and the pressure on his windpipe vanished. Sam felt bits and pieces of desiccated corpse pepper his neck. He clapped a hand over his wound and swiveled around to find his rescuer. Standing there was a stake-wielding Xander, who had obviously not done what he had been told, and, astonishingly, his estranged, missing father.

John Winchester gave his middle child the smirk that his eldest had inherited. He tossed Sam a spare stake. "Let's go, boy!" John shouted as he charged the remaining vamps. "Baby that papercut later!"

Sam had no chance to digest his father's sudden appearance as a vampire came within reach. The hunter clobbered her in the temple with the butt of his gun and stabbed her in the heart with the stake. Given the chance to look around, he saw that John was dispatching the last of them. Meg was nowhere to be found.

Angel glared pointedly at Xander. The boy had the sense to at least look abashed at having defied their command. "Not my fault!" he exclaimed. "This guy saw me heading into the school and wanted me to follow him here. Now that all the scary stuff is done," Xander said as he faced John, "mind telling me who you are?"

"What the hell are you doing here?" Sam demanded.

"I was going to speak with Rupert," answered John, ignoring Xander's query, "but then I caught sight of this mess."

"And it didn't dawn on you to let any of us know you were coming here?" his son demanded. "Not even your frigging daughter?"

As comprehension lit up Xander's expression, John snarled, "Don't you take that tone with me, boy. You'll know what I need you to know. Since you're here, let's go."

"Buffy," Angel gasped before running into the cavern.

"Buffy?" John repeated, startled.

"You didn't know?" Sam asked incredulously.

"Know what?"

"Uh, guys?" Xander interjected. "I'm following Angel, but stay here and have your not-happy family reunion if you want."

The boy hurried off and Sam made to follow. His father clamped a hand on his arm. "What the hell is going on with your sister?"

"Not my secret to tell," Sam replied as he jerked his appendage away. "You'll know if she wants you to know," he added scathingly as he quickly moved to join the others in running to the Master's lair.

* * *

The library was pure chaos. After a short, rumbling earthquake several cracks had appeared on the floor between the stacks and tables and a horrific smell had spewed forth; something akin to a burning truck full of rotten eggs. As Giles and the others gagged, small wisps of black smoke seeped through. The vapor-like creatures immediately began flitting about looking for something to torment. Luckily for them there were four hapless humans in their immediate vicinity.

The only visual sign of their presence were shadows on the walls making striking one down difficult. Giles shouted out at one point that they were _daeva_ , minor demons, and that the Hellmouth needed to be closed before something stronger escaped.

"Okay," said Dean as he fired his shotgun into the wall where he'd glimpsed a shadow. "How the fuck do we do that?"

"The Master!" Giles shouted back as he ducked to avoid a set of hurled encyclopedias. "The Hellmouth is tied to his life force. If he's dead, then it will close. In the meantime, we need a strong source of light!" He fired his crossbow at a vampire who had risked sticking his head up at the (now broken) back windows.

"Are you on the _phone_?" Dean asked Willow, incredulous.

The red-headed girl, who was trying to hide under a table, responded to whoever she was speaking with. "In the library! Just come straight in!" She snapped her phone closed and shrieked as her cover was flung away by a gleeful _daeva_. Dean grabbed Willow's arm and hauled her up as the sentient shadow smashed into the floor.

Standing by the doorway, Miss Calendar shone the light of a lamp onto a shadow and cried, "What's that sound?"

Dean pulled Willow behind the circulation desk and listened. "Is that a car?"

A moment later, a red Lexus screeched through the library doors and came to a halt several feet in front of the remains of the tables. The brights flipped on and the _daeva_ screeched in protest. In the driver's seat was a frazzled Cordelia who backed up her car in order to spread the light more fully. "Does this work?" she wondered through the open passenger window.

In the momentary lull, Willow nodded firmly and said, "Perfect."

"Watch out!" Dean yelled as several books lifted themselves and flew with devastating force into the Lexus' headlamps. Another burst through the windshield as a screaming Cordelia scrambled out of her car.

The light was gone and the _daeva_ were free to once again wreak havoc. It was also clear that Dean's improvised lock on the doors was now broken; there was no longer a physical barrier between them and the monsters waiting outside.

"What now?" Willow squeaked.

"We survive," Giles replied. "And we wait for Buffy."

"Well someone tell her to hurry up!" Cordelia complained. "I'm not dying before someone buys me a new car!"

* * *

When Sam and his father finally made it down to the Master's prison the ancient vampire was gone. Far more disconcerting was the sight of Xander desperately performing mouth-to-mouth on Buffy. John blanched, but his voice was steady as he asked, "What happened?"

As Buffy's father and brother knelt down beside her, Angel explained, "We found her face down in the water."

Rage suffused John's expression as Xander moved to perform CPR. The boy desperately urged, "C'mon, Buffy! Breathe!"

The others waited in agony as the boy continued to administer the procedures. A long minute passed. Sam raised a quivering hand, intent on stopping Xander's unnecessary ministrations, just as Buffy's eyes snapped open. She gasped, wonderfully filling her body with oxygen, before turning on her side and vomiting a great quantity of water.

Her father waited for her heaving to stop before pulling her off the floor and giving her a strong embrace. "Oh thank God!" he whispered harshly as he squeezed even tighter.

"Dad?" Buffy croaked out. She looked over, baffled, at her teary-eyed brother. Sam gave her a watery smile and shrugged.

John finally loosened his grip and let his daughter sit back on her heels. "Buffy," he demanded, "what in God's name were you doing down here?"

Brought back to the reason behind her drowning, Buffy's lips pressed into a tight, thin line. "I'm here because I'm supposed to be here," she declared, her voice clearer.

"Buffy, the only one that was supposed to be here—" John cut himself off and stared, horrified. "No. No no no, you _can't_ be."

His daughter tried pushing herself to her feet. When he saw what a monumental effort it was taking, Angel reached out and grasped her hand and elbow in aid. "The Master?" Buffy asked the vampire.

"He's gone up," he replied as the rest of them stood.

"Buffy, no," John said harshly. "You might be the Slayer, but let us handle him."

Both Sam and his sister stared at their father. "How the hell do you know about that?" Sam demanded.

"The yellow-eyed demon," John replied. "He's playin' some kind of long term game. All I know is that the Slayer had to die tonight for it to go forward. Buffy," the hunter continued, agonized, "how did this happen?"

"It just _did_ ," she answered. "And now, if you'll excuse me, I've got someone's butt to kick." The Slayer whirled on her heel and hurried off, both Xander and Sam close behind.

Angel made to follow when a hand gripped his shoulder. He turned to see the fiery gaze of John Winchester. "I know who you are," he growled.

"Then you know why I'm not like the others," Angel replied.

John jabbed his finger at the vampire. "You listen to me. I get one word that that soul o'yours ain't clean no more and I'll be hoofing it right back here to stake your sorry ass."

Angel swallowed. "If that ever happened, I'd be grateful."

"Good." John stepped back. "So. You smelled him, didn't you."

"Yes."

"And you didn't say nothing."

"No reason for me to do so."

"Good. Let's keep it that way."

* * *

 **Acknowledgement** : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episode, "Prophecy Girl" (BtVS 1.12).

 **Author's Note** : I'm changing the mythos on some of the monsters, like the vampires, thus the soul cleanse thing. I'll explain eventually, promise!

Also, smooshed together the early stuff with Meg and revealed her black-eyedness before the whole Colt thing goes down. 'Cuz I wanted to.

I'm not exactly clear on the whole CPR/mouth-to-mouth thing, like if what Xander was doing on the show was in any way accurate or if it was just tv stuff. If it's wrong, please let me know!


	7. Book I: Chapter 7

(10/13/2016) I had to take a break from writing long winded essays. My brain was starting to melt.

I apologize for not responding to the reviews and messages in a timely manner. I will get to them, I promise! Cross my heart, hope to die, stick an angel blade in my eye.

Thank you **jkmp28** , **RHatch89** , **Jennee77** , **kyrielslight** , **dreameralways** , and **thedarkpokemaster** for the reviews! And tickle pokies for everyone favoriting and following!

* * *

Outdoors there was unmitigated anarchy. The _daeva_ had finally tired of the shotgun wielding, light-pointing humans and had swept out of the library through one of the broken windows. Far from being relieved, the group trapped inside was horrified to see a much larger plume of black smoke begin to slither from the Hellmouth, slowly but inexorably. True demons were making their way through the cracked opening of the Hellmouth and both Dean and Giles desperately wracked their brains for something that would hold the hellspawn off. To at least slow their progress Willow and Cordelia flung holy water into the crevasse while Miss Calendar swung a rosary through the vapor.

The _daeva_ , meanwhile, had discovered a veritable smorgasbord of victims right outside and were making a merry mess of the hardy vampires. The minor hellspawn figured out fairly early that removing their heads put an end to their fun so they were tearing off limbs, flinging the monsters to great heights in order to watch them plummet to the ground, and stabbing them with everything and anything that hadn't come from a tree. The vampires themselves were running helter-skelter and the sudden appearance of Buffy, Xander, and Sam barely registered.

On top of the school roof paced the Master, majestically surveying what his freedom had wrought. "There," Sam said as they approached the school entrance. He pointed towards a maintenance door that had been wrenched off its hinges. Moonlight shone off of a ladder leading upwards.

They hurried inside and the noise from the mayhem dimmed. As soon as they reached their destination Buffy immediately began climbing the rungs. She paused and looked down when she felt a tug on her jacket. "You can't go alone," Sam pleaded. "He's already killed you once."

"Didn't stick," she replied, her confidence seemingly unshakeable. Buffy leaned over and planted a quick kiss on the top of her brother's head. Then before he could object again she shot upwards and called, "I'll be right back!"

"Uh, Sam?" Xander said urgently.

The hunter tore his gaze from where his sister had gone. "What?"

"We got company."

A handful of vampires had been fortunate enough to spot the humans entering the building. Eyes bright and lips peeled back in gleeful anticipation, they advanced upon what they mistakenly assumed was easy prey.

Sam reached into a corner of the room and snatched up a weathered broom. He snapped it in half over his knee and handed a makeshift stake to Xander.

The hunter and the teenager looked determinedly at one another then braced themselves for the assault.

* * *

Where Buffy had strode brazenly out from the cavern, John and Angel extinguished the lit torches closest to the entrance and cautiously crept forth. They exchanged wry glances at the plight of the vampires before skirting the edge of the lawn and heading for the school.

The trickle of monsters who had noticed Xander and Sam had grown to a river, with one portion plugged haphazardly in the doorway by their panic in fleeing the daeva and a lucky few presumably inside. The remainder continued to be harassed by the minor demons. As Angel watched, two shadows grabbed a female from the crowd and proceeded to pull her in half. The unfortunate monster still had an intact heart and head; upon landing she let loose an ear-piercing shriek that amped up the frenzy at the school entrance.

"What now?" Angel asked.

"Look," John replied, pointing to the rooftop where a tall, hairless monstrosity was engaged in a fierce hand-to-hand battle with a small blonde figure.

"Buffy," the vampire gasped. He started towards her, intending on scaling the wall to help, when a plume of black smoke shot out and then was sucked back into the skylight at the combatants' feet. When it cleared, Angel saw the Slayer leaning precariously downwards at the source of the vapor.

John watched the _daeva_ swoop into the crevasses in the doorway. The vampires, those few that hadn't been maimed or dusted, saw the opportunity and scattered, leaving their less mobile compatriots to their fate. They'd need some proper staking before the authorities arrived.

"Let's go," John ordered Angel. First things first. His sons and his daughter were there; he needed to see they were safe.

* * *

"Mr. Winchester, will you _please_ stop molesting the bones."

"'Molesting'?" Dean repeated incredulously. He'd just been using a shotgun to stab the powdery mess that had collected on the banister below the Master's skeletal remains. The fact that it was underneath the thing's pelvis was just coincidental.

"Catch me!" Buffy called down cheerfully. Dean had a bare moment to register what she was about to do and quickly dropped the firearm. He then promptly found himself with an armful of little sister and bruised forearms.

She hopped nonchalantly out of his hold to examine the remains of the Master. Xander and Sam pounded through the swinging doors almost immediately after. "All the vamps just up and left," Sam proclaimed.

"They all kinda looked like they didn't know why they were even here," Xander added, "then went skedaddling."

"The _daeva_ flew into the Hellmouth right before it closed," said Miss Calendar as she picked her way over the debris and the hood of Cordelia's car.

"I suspect they felt they'd be happier in Hell," Giles explained. "Away from all the light."

Xander paused and gestured at the mangled Lexus. "Why are we parking in the library now?"

"That was me saving their butts," Cordelia declared as she came around the circulation desk. "And now I have to get a whole new car! I liked this one," she whined. "A lot."

"Boo-hoo," Xander mocked while fist-scrubbing imaginary tears. "Daddy's just going to have to get you a Mercedes this time."

"Shut up."

"Buffy!" John cried as he ran through the doors. He hurried his way through the detritus and grabbed his daughter's shoulders. "Oh thank God," he uttered as he wrapped Buffy in an tight hug.

" _Dad_?" Dean asked, flabbergasted.

"Hey, son," the Winchester patriarch said as he grabbed his firstborn's wrist and added him to the embrace.

"Air becoming an issue," said a sandwiched Buffy.

John let his children go as Sam approached. When his father gave him an uneasy smile, the younger son quietly murmured, "Hey, dad."

"Son," John answered. "Listen, Sam," he continued as Dean and Buffy shifted away, "before earlier, the last time we were together we had one hell of a fight."

"Yes, sir."

"I didn't get to tell you outside, but it's good to see you again. It's been a long time."

His eyes brimming with tears, Sam smiled and replied, "Too long," as he and his father gave each other a hug.

Buffy and and her eldest brother exchanged smugly satisfied grins. Dean was then taken aback when his sister's face fell and she burst into tears. Sam and John broke apart and her friends came hurrying over.

"I'm sorry," she blubbered. "It's been a really weird day." Buffy sniffled and looked fondly up at her father when he gently ran his hand down her hair.

"Yeah," said Xander. "You went and died and everything."

"Are you sure you're all right?" Willow asked worriedly.

"I'll be fine," Buffy reassured her friend. She looked from her father to her Watcher and asked, "What now?"

Giles adjusted his glasses and proclaimed, "I don't know about the rest of you, but I'd really like to get out of this library. I hate it here."

"Then why the hell did you become the librarian?" Dean wondered.

"Benefits, mostly. A very nice retirement package."

"Huh."

"I hear there's a dance over at The Bronze!" Xander suggested. "That could be fun."

"Yeah!" Cordelia cheered.

"I'm down," said Sam. "Bloody tux and all." He tugged at his collar and the vampire bite while ruefully remembering that it was one of their fake cards holding the deposit on the outfit.

"I've been meaning to ask you about the monkey suit," said John.

"It matches my dress!" beamed Buffy. She held out the tattered, moisture laden remains of her gown. "I mean, I got all pretty and so did Sam."

"What about him?" asked Miss Calendar. They all turned towards the pitted and yellowed bones of the Master.

"He's not going anywhere," Buffy scoffed. "Loser."

"They got beer at this joint?" John queried the crowd as they headed for the less blockaded exit at the back.

"Adult drinks aplenty," Xander replied.

John clapped Dean on the back. "C'mon," he told his son, "first round's on you."

* * *

There were a few logistics to work out before all of them could clear the area. While Sam surreptitiously escorted the teenagers to the dance, the adults dispatched the remaining vampires then contended with the police. The chaos had not gone unnoticed, particularly since the vampires had howled unchecked at the _daeva's_ gory mischief, and there had been a bevy of emergency calls claiming that a gang war was going down on the high school campus.

Dean and Jenny Calendar charmed the authorities while Giles and John were confronted by Principal Snyder. The significantly shorter man planted himself in front of them and demanded, "What was going on here?"

Giles removed his glasses and cleaned them with a corner of his vest while John lifted his eyebrows. "Who the hell are you?"

Snyder announced his name and title before asking Giles, "Who is this? Is he authorized to be on campus?"

"This is John Winchester," the Watcher replied calmly.

"And?"

"I'm Buffy's father," supplied John.

That earned him a scowl. Snyder folded his arms, self-righteousness giving him the backbone to confront the scruffy-looking (somewhat intimidating) intruder. "It figures you would be. Anytime there's trouble, your daughter is right in the middle of it. Her delinquency must be _inherited_."

John's eyes narrowed and Giles tensed. The Watcher was familiar with the man's notoriously short temper. Adding the protectiveness the hunter had for his children and the ensuing conversation wasn't going to bode well for Snyder. Giles just prayed that it wouldn't turn physical; John was a skilled fighter and tended to wander about heavily armed.

"Now you listen here," John growled as he loomed over the Principal. "My girl, she ain't no delinquent. You saying you got some kind of problem with her?"

Giles was impressed at how Snyder drew himself up and glared back at the hunter. The Principal swallowed nervously before speaking, spoiling the effect. "I'm saying," he sneered, "that your daughter _is_ a problem. And since you aren't around all the time _someone_ should be here to hand out discipline."

Giles caught John mid-lunge. The Watcher cleared his throat and looked pointedly at the flashing red and blue lights. Thankfully, John backed away from the now deeply uneasy Principal.

Snyder decided to feign ignorance and chose to focus his ire on the librarian instead. "Keep your… _friend_ away from the campus from now on. One member of that family's enough. God knows what more of them would do." He shot one final glower at the both of them (the one John got was tinged with apprehension) before leaving to deal with the authorities.

"That little shit's in charge of Buffy's school?" John asked.

"Unfortunately, yes," Giles sighed. "Extraordinarily apt description of him, I must say."

"Especially the little part."

The two middle aged men shared a childish snicker. After rubbing moisture from his eyes Giles wondered, "What the devil _are_ you doing back here, John?"

"The yellow-eyed demon. Got word that he had plans for the Slayer and thought he'd show. Speaking of which," the hunter growled as he used a finger to jab his friend in the chest, "exactly _when_ were you going to tell me that my _daughter_ was the Slayer?"

"Never," Giles answered. Unlike the Principal the Watcher wasn't cowed by the hunter's ire.

" _Excuse_ me?"

"You're a hunter, John. You know what happened."

The Slayer's father paled. "Maria Gutierrez."

The Watcher nodded slowly. "It was for Buffy's sake. I'm sorry."

As the Winchester patriarch brooded over his children's fates, his eldest son and Miss Calendar approached. "Dude," said Dean, "police filled in the blanks for us. Crazies on PCP and meth did it."

"Stole Cordelia's car and everything," added a bewildered Jenny.

"The local authorities are remarkably adept at seeing only what they want to see," Giles said mildly. "In the meantime, perhaps we should be heading off?"

"Sounds good to me," Dean replied. "Dad?"

"Yeah," John said, affecting a warm smile, "go on. I'll be there soon, son."

As they walked away, Dean offered Miss Calendar a ride and, judging by how hard she smacked him on the arm, something far more inappropriate. "He does take after you," Giles commented.

John sighed. "Don't know yet if that's a good thing or a bad thing."

* * *

The rest of the evening passed without any further supernatural events. Buffy was disappointed that Angel didn't show at The Bronze, but consoled herself by dancing enthusiastically with her friends. John, Dean, Giles, and Miss Calendar pretended to be chaperones and sipped beers. Sam, unfortunately, had shown up with the younger group and was therefore assumed to be either of their peerage or a student of the local college. He was inundated with an admiring gaggle of girls that he couldn't avoid in The Bronze's relatively small space.

Once the dance was over they headed home, the terrors of the evening hours pushed away to deal with another time. Sam and Dean took the guest room in the Summers' home while John headed for a motel; he had no illusions regarding the sort of welcome Joyce was likely to give him. They decided on a family meeting at John's room in the morning.

* * *

"All right, dad," Dean demanded, "what's going on? We don't hear from you for frigging forever and you just randomly show up?"

John glowered. "Both of you boys got some serious attitude adjustments coming."

"Dad," Sam interjected angrily, "Dean was _dying_ and you didn't call us back."

"Where have you been?" Buffy added, more curious than upset.

"Tracking down the damn demon," John replied, ignoring both his sons. "Got word it wanted the Slayer dead and headed this way. Buffy, I had no idea it was you."

The girl shrugged. "Meh. Died, but not really. So?"

"You were going to use the Slayer as _bait_ ," Sam surmised. His voice rose. "You were going to let some girl die just so you could track the damn demon!"

"Sam," Dean sighed in an attempt to curtail the impending argument.

"I didn't know it was my damn daughter!" John snarled back.

"And that makes it _better?_ " his youngest son shot back.

"No, it don't, but this is the first real lead I've had on where the thing was supposed to be." John's voice rose to a shout. "This is the thing that killed your mother! Ain't nothing going to stand in my way of getting to that son of a bitch!"

"Even letting some girl die?" asked Buffy quietly.

The arguing men both froze and stared. "No," John replied, "not if I could save her. I was going to _try_ at least," he added with a glare for his son.

"But if she died it wouldn't have mattered." Buffy's tone darkened. "Because you would have gotten to this thing with banana eyes."

Dean snorted, earning him a deadly look from his father. "Sweetheart," John placated, "I've been looking for this thing before you were even an idea. If I could finally make an end to it then anything was worth the price."

"Including some girl's life. Or mine."

"No. _No_! Of course not. Goddamnit, Buffy!" cried her father. "I come here, I find out _you're_ the Slayer, that Rupert's been keeping that from men. Don't you know what that means?"

"She who is Chosen to fight the evil, yadda yadda yadda. Duh, dad, I know. But you want to talk about keeping things?" she asked, her tone beginning to echo the vehemence in both her father's and brother's voices. "How about you and Dean and Sam not telling me you were _hunters_? How about you showing up every couple of months and acting like we're some normal dysfunctional family when _really_ you've got this secret life where you all go out and kill monsters?"

"We were trying to protect you," Dean said softly.

"Fat lot of good that did!" Buffy yelled at him.

"Hey, there ain't no way we could have predicted _you_ were going to get called!"

"So if I hadn't, you would have, what, not told me? Ever?"

"Yeah! So?"

Dean and Buffy's debate devolved into a shouting match with the former insisting that everything had been done for her well-being and the latter denying her supposed fragility. Sam and John attempted to add their own opinions, which of course contradicted one another, and the tiny, dingy motel room became filled with the loud, heated voices of John Winchester and his progeny.

Finally, Buffy stomped her foot and bellowed over the noise, "Okay, okay, shut up, just _SHUT UP_ all of you!" Once it was quiet she swiveled on her heel to face her father. "I'm coming with you guys."

"Absolutely _not_ ," John declared.

"Give me one good reason."

"You're going to get hurt," Dean growled.

"It's not safe," added Sam.

"Bullshit!" Buffy cried, the unexpected profanity startling the rest of them into shocked silence. "I'm the _Slayer_. I can't un-be the Slayer. That means that wherever I go, whatever I do, some baddie might come looking for me. I don't go with you guys, I'm stuck going to L.A. with Hank while mom's doing her travel thing for the art gallery."

"That dick's still around?" John scoffed.

"Yup." She gestured to the right. "Hank." Then to the left. "You guys. Tell me which one you'd choose."

Her father looked thoughtful. "I'm sure Giles didn't do a good enough job training you. Probably don't even know how to load a gun."

"Sure! Bullet go in, pew pew pew. Right?"

While Dean rolled his eyes, Sam turned on John and said, "You are _not_ subjecting Buffy to the sort of life you made us live. Moving every couple of weeks? Sometimes days? Early morning marine regimen, weight lifting? She's got friends and her mom here. She stays."

"He's right, dad," Dean agreed. "She's got it good here."

"Don't I get a say in any of this?" asked Buffy.

All three men immediately stated, "No."

"Didn't plan on it," John told his younger son. "She can come until school starts again and Joyce gets home. Then she's right back here."

"Sounds good to me!" Buffy cheered.

"Dad—" Sam began.

"Sam," John interrupted wearily, "who do you think is going to keep her safer? Us? Or that dipshit her mother went and married?"

"Gotcha there, Sammy," Dean smirked.

"It's _Sam_ ," his brother groused. "Fine! Whatever."

"Good," John said. "Now, she's going with you guys, not with me."

A chorus of objections immediately erupted. With his usual authoritarianism John barked out an order for quiet and his children promptly obeyed. "None of you got any business going where I'm going," he declared. "You two, take her and get her some _actual_ training in."

"You're going off alone," Dean said disbelievingly. " _Again_. And, what, you're going to just send us orders and expect us to follow them?"

"That's how this works, boy," John firmly told him. "You do what I say and we don't got problems."

Sam, mutinous, made to argue further but bit his tongue when Buffy stomped on his foot. "Stop it," she hissed.

"When?" Dean asked their father.

"Now," John stated. He moved towards his duffle bag.

"You're not going," Sam declared.

"You giving me more shit, boy?" John snarled.

"Nope," his younger son replied with a sly smirk. "Someone needs to tell _Joyce_ we're taking her daughter on a road trip."

"Should definitely be you, dad," said Dean, his fear of the Summers matriarch apparent.

However, it was Buffy's eager smile and puppy-like eyes that broke their father's protests. " _Pleeeease_?"

John threw his arms up. "Fine! Wasn't planning on living to a ripe old age anyhow."

* * *

At mid-afternoon Willow and Xander found the three siblings sitting around the stoop of the house on Revello Drive. Buffy had claimed the steps, Sam was standing under the tree in the yard, and Dean had taken the spot next to the door. "What's with the poopy faces?" Xander asked.

The unabashedly loud and profane imprecations coming from inside answered his query. "Oh."

"What's going on?" Willow wondered as she sat next to Buffy.

"Dad's talking to mom about going with these guys for the summer," she replied. "I talked with her a little but I don't think she thought it was _really_ going to happen."

"Also," Dean added as he thumbed towards the door, "dad didn't ask. He just straight up told Joyce she was going."

"Aww," Willow cooed. "Family road trip! Don't forget to tell Giles or he might get all grumpy."

"I won't, I promise."

"So you'll be working all summer," Xander inferred, "what with the monster hunting. Me, I'm going to be working on the sitting around and the sleeping in."

"A terrible fate, to be sure," Buffy commented.

Willow nudged her friend and whispered, "What about Angel?"

"I'll get his number," Buffy whispered back. "Probably have to text the whole time or Dean'll freak."

When the front door slammed open, Xander fell over with a high-pitched squeal and Buffy and Willow quickly cleared the steps. A livid John Winchester tromped down the porch and went straight for his truck, not bothering to speak a word to his sons or his daughter. They watched him clamber inside, rev the engine, and roar off, nonplussed.

"Seriously?" Sam muttered.

A still incensed Joyce emerged from the house, her arms tightly folded. She had no kind words for either of her former paramour's sons, but she did demand that Buffy join her inside. Willow and Xander spared a moment to say their goodbyes before retreating while the Slayer's brothers unsuccessfully tried to make themselves look small and inconspicuous.

Buffy followed her mother to the kitchen where she was pouring a glass of wine. "Mom?"

"That… That foul-mouthed, selfish, pig-headed…" Joyce trailed off and downed half her glass.

Curious, Buffy sat on a stool and propped her head in her hands. "Why _did_ you hook up with him in the first place? Not like I'm objecting, seeing as how it made awesome little me."

Her mother gave her a wistful smile. "You should have seen your father back then. All rugged manliness and bad-boy attitude. He was sweet, too, and caring, and I think he honestly tried. But it all eventually came back to Mary Winchester and I wasn't interested in becoming just her substitute."

The pair sat in silence for a bit, Joyce slowly sipping the remainder of her Chardonnay and Buffy yearning to know what her summer vacation was going to look like. Eventually, Joyce said, "Well, as long as Sam is there at least _somebody_ normal and responsible will be around." Her daughter perked up. "I guess you're going whether I like it or not. John made _that_ quite clear."

Buffy slid off her seat and gave her mother the biggest hug she could. "Thank you, mom! I promise to call all the time."

"We'll set up a regular appointment," Joyce replied. "I'll be changing time zones every other week." She put down her glass and gently placed her palms on the sides of her daughter's face. "Promise me you'll be safe?"

"I'm with my two big brothers, mom," Buffy scoffed. "What could possibly happen?"

* * *

The vagrant's body slumped over, the terror of his last moments shrouded by several years' growth of matted hair and beard. His assailant kicked a blanket over his corpse and strode to the darker end of the alley.

The demon known currently as Meg stared into her bowl of blood and uttered an incantation. Ripples emanated outward from the center as she made contact. Her eyes filmed over in black. Aurally, a one-sided conversation ensued, with the responses showing as varying waves of red.

"She died, as was planned, but it wasn't permanent. Even so, I felt the passage of power; another has been called… But what about the current Slayer?… Yes, I'll continue to search… I understand… Really? Keep killing the Slayers until the one we want is called? Why, father. I'd be happy to!"

* * *

 **Acknowledgement** : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episodes, "Prophecy Girl" (BtVS 1.12), and "Shadow" (SPN 1.16).

 **Author's Note** : Maria is a Slayer I totally made up. The wikia says that some girl named India was immediately before Buffy, then Nikki Wood before her, but since I moved the timeline up I plugged Maria in there. Fanfiction (jazz hands)!


	8. Book I: Chapter 8

(10/15/2016) I'm totally procrastinating. Someone come here and write my paper and I can keep writing fanfiction instead.

Itty bitty bit was added to the last chapter. I honestly just forgot to do it before I posted.

New season is off to an awesome start! In fact, all the tv shows are doing awesome things. Westworld anyone?

Thank you **missmeow1968** , **RHatch89** , and **thedarkpokemaster** for the reviews! And hello all you quiet favoriters and followers!

* * *

( _Excerpt from Rupert Giles' Watcher diaries_ )

…Why is it that no other creature that has been designated a "monster" is affected by the sacred? Neither witches nor revenants fall prey to crosses, holy water, or sunlight. Yet the vampire is vulnerable to all three.

It must be taken into account that demons alone are the only other creatures who are thus affected, at least when it comes to the first two objects. It has been postulated that there must be some sort of connection between the vampire and Hell. Watcher lore also speaks of the Old One, Maloker, who supposedly sired the first of their kind long ago, putting to question the origins of the Old Ones as well.

Are vampires bastard offshoots of true demons? Are they merely humans whose souls have been distorted by the taint of Hell? Who was Maloker and what, if any, was his role? According to the diaries of Russian Watcher Dmitri Yugoslav…

* * *

( _Text conversation between Willow Rosenberg and Buffy Summers_ )

WILLOW: Abracadabra!

BUFFY: Abrjdjkwlanfjfiens

WILLOW: Nice

BUFFY: What's the what?

WILLOW: Nada. We've been doing little patrols. Giles is helping.

BUFFY: Yeah? How's the HM?

WILLOW: Kinda quiet. Maybe cuz the Master got staked?

BUFFY: Could hope

WILLOW: How's the road?

BUFFY: Funner than I thought! Dean's showing me how to do guns

WILLOW: You becoming Annie Oakley?

BUFFY: Hit all the targets first try. Sam busted a gut laughing at Dean's face

WILLOW: How's Sam?

BUFFY: Good. Why?

WILLOW: Oh just wondering

BUFFY: Is there something you need to tell me?

WILLOW: No nothing at all. Hey Xander says hi

BUFFY: Tell him I said hi back

WILLOW: Heard from Angel?

BUFFY: No

WILLOW: He's a poop head anyways

BUFFY: You see him you tell him to call me, ok?

WILLOW: What about Dean?

BUFFY: Dean's a poop head. He can deal

WILLOW: Ok if I see him I'll give him the message

BUFFY: Thanks! Miss you guys!

WILLOW: Miss you too! Text you tomorrow

* * *

 **The Great Winchester/Summers Prank War**

Began with a spoon in Sam's mouth while he was napping followed by cranking the Impala's radio quickly up to maximum.

Clear nail polish all over Dean's favorite bar of soap. Only thing left in the bathroom was a tiny bottle of strawberry scented wash.

Fake roaches mixed into Buffy's duffel bag.

 _Real_ roaches mixed into Sam's.

Timer set on the motel TV so it would turn on at 3am. Slight backfire since Dean put several bullet holes in the flatscreen.

Snuck small chili peppers into Sam's salad.

Unscrewed the lid of the salt while Dean was in the bathroom. The French fries were nearly inedible, but he persevered.

Replacing the background picture on Buffy's phone with one of their butts. Whose it was, neither brother would say.

Shaving cream in Sam's palm in the morning followed by tickling his nose to wake him up.

Radio cranked on the Impala before it was started.

Sent pics to Buffy's friends of her drooling on her pillow.

Itching powder in Sam's underpants.

Superglued Dean's hand to a beer bottle.

War ended on a truce when Sam called Ed Zeddmore pretending to be a movie producer, Buffy called Harry Spangler pretending to be a swooning female fan, and Dean stuck a dead fish under the pair's back seat.

* * *

( _Audio from a video uploaded to the Hell Hound's Lair website_ )

"Hello. I am Harry Spengler."

"And I am Ed Zeddmore."

"And if you're watching this video, it's because you've seen… a _ghost_."

"A spirit."

"A _poltergeist_!"

"A pol… a gho… a _thing_ … not of this world!"

"And you're here to see the _experts_ at work."

"Meaning _us_."

"Not those _Winchesters_. Douchebag pretty boys."

" _So_ pretty. Like girls."

"Except one _was_ a girl."

"And she was _hot_."

" _So_ hot."

"Anytime you want to ditch those bros of yours, babe, you call us."

"Because we know how to treat the ladies right."

"Oh yeah."

"Because we've had… _so_ much experience."

"Dozens of women."

" _Hundreds_."

"Yeah."

"Oh yeah."

"But about ghosts…"

* * *

( _Text message sent from John Winchester to Dean Winchester_ )

Coordinates: 42° 57.650' N 89° 28.191' W

* * *

( _Phone call from Buffy Summers to Joyce Summers_ )

BUFFY: Hi mom!

JOYCE: Buffy! ( _yawning_ ) Sorry, I'm in New York and it's been a _very_ long day. Where are you and your brothers right now?

BUFFY: We're in Wisconsin, home of the cheese headed people apparently.

JOYCE: See anything interesting?

BUFFY: Well, we saw the world's largest ball of twine! It was… twiny. I think Dean made us go there because I made him go to that place with a gazillion cabbage patch kids back in Iowa.

JOYCE: What, does he have a fear of dolls?

BUFFY: He does now.

DEAN: ( _slightly slurred shout in the background_ ) I do not!

SAM: ( _in the background_ ) Dean, give me the lighter.

DEAN: ( _clicks indicating an attempt to start a lighter_ ) No! We're gonna go back and I'm gonna burn the dolls! 'S the only way to get rid of the ghosts!

SAM: Give it! ( _thumps of two men wrestling with occasional profanities_ )

BUFFY: Oh. My God. I'm going outside. ( _squeak of door opening then clacks of locks settling_ )

JOYCE: Is your brother _drunk_?

BUFFY: We kind of had a rough day. I guess Dean didn't… um… I guess dad brought them here a long time ago and it brought back bad memories.

JOYCE: Oh?

BUFFY: ( _deep sigh_ ) Long story short: Dean skipped out on doing babysitter duty and Sam almost got killed. He still feels really bad about it.

JOYCE: I suppose John wasn't really happy with him either.

BUFFY: Nope.

JOYCE: Speaking of which, have you seen your father lately?

BUFFY: Uh, not _really_. Not in person. I think he's, um, busy doing some work somewhere else. He texts us every once in a while though, lets us know he's okay.

JOYCE: ( _angry sigh_ ) Good grief. He could at least spend _some_ time with you three on the road.

BUFFY: Yeah, I— ( _loud thump followed by raucous, drunken laughter_ )

DEAN: ( _muffled_ ) You don't move, Sammy, I'm gonna hold you down an' shave your head.

SAM: ( _muffled_ ) Oh, c'mon, put that away. Buffy! Help!

BUFFY: I better go, mom. If I don't I might be one brother less by morning.

JOYCE: Okay, sweetie. I love you, and tell the boys that I love them too. Make sure Dean gets a lot of water in him before he passes out.

BUFFY: I will, mom. Love you, too. Bye!

JOYCE: Bye!

* * *

( _Letter by Daniel Elkins, date unknown. Left in a P.O. box for John Winchester. Picked up August 2006 by his children._ )

J,

If you're reading this, I'm already dead. I'm sorry I didn't tell you before: I had the Colt this whole time locked away in a safe. You might think it's because of what happened between you and Sara, but really it was for your own good. She's doing okay, by the way. Far as I know she headed on out of here after you did your usual thing with women and went back to her parents' place in Iowa. Left the ring at least.

I'm hoping by the time you get this you've given up on this obsession. Those boys need a father, not a mission, and what were you planning on telling that girl of yours? But maybe you haven't and you need that Colt. It's in the safe in my living room. Combo is 25–53–12. You're welcome to anything else you find in there.

Here's hoping you got this after I've died some kind of peaceful death in my sleep. I hope maybe you're back in California with that Joyce being a family man again.

D

* * *

 **Author's Note** : The final letter is picked up by Sam and Dean in the episode, "Dead Man's Blood" (1.20).


	9. Book I: Chapter 9

(10/19/2016) I made the mistake of rewatching Watchmen. If John Winchester sounds like the Comedian I apologize. I'm so tempted to start watching Walking Dead again because of Jeffrey Dean Morgan :D

The next update might be a while. My final class is looking like it's going to be a doozy. Of course, I could always procrastinate just like I'm doing right now…

Thank you **thedarkpokemaster** and **missmeow1968** for the reviews! And cookies and candies for all the new favoriters and followers!

* * *

Upon hearing that John's friend Elkins had been murdered by vampires Buffy immediately and imperiously demanded to know how many and where they were. When her father refused to give any details Buffy began walking off by herself. She proclaimed that this was exactly her kind of thing and _she_ would find and take care of them. John followed his daughter and put a restraining hand on her shoulder.

He ended up flat on his back.

It was the first time John Winchester had encountered the strength and reflexes of the Slayer, and if it had been anyone but his daughter he would have been merely flummoxed. Circumstances being what they were he clambered to his feet and was _furious_. At the look on his face Buffy cringed and peeped out an apology. Despite her power and her calling the Slayer was still a sixteen-year-old girl, considerably shorter than her immediate male relatives, who had _never_ been the focus of her father's ire.

Oppressive silence reigned. For a long moment John stared down at his youngest child, a look on his face that neither of his sons had ever seen. It suddenly dawned on Dean that his father was torn between blistering Buffy's ears with a scathing tirade and laughing himself sick.

John settled for walking away and climbing into his truck. He barked an order to follow, waited until the Impala's engine roared, then sped off. Dean saw his father's shoulders shaking from the back window; apparently he'd given in to hysteria.

In the meantime, Buffy had regained her bout of temper and was sitting in the Impala's back seat with her arms crossed. "Dude," Dean said to her, "you look like a pouty baby."

"Shut up," she shot back.

"We need a plan," Sam placated. "We can't just go charging in. Buffy, there could be, like, twenty vampires in there."

"Sounds like fun."

Sam twisted around to look his sister in the eyes. "You might be the Slayer but you're not immortal. Remember: you got dinged just like we did when we went after that tulpa."

"But I got _better_ faster," Buffy argued.

"Yeah, but you got hurt in the first place. All it's going to take is one of those vampires getting a lucky shot in and you're dead just like the rest of us."

"Then the next Slayer gets called. Yippie dippy doo."

This sort of fatalistic commentary had been creeping into Buffy's speech ever since the tulpa had knocked her out of the window of its ramshackle home. As focused as he was on the job Dean didn't seem to notice, but Sam, who had previously spent a considerably larger amount of time with their sister, could see she was acting different. There was more of this Angry, Morose Buffy than the usual Peppy, Excitable Buffy as of late.

Concern for his sister was warring with the inevitable irritation that his father's presence normally brought on. Sam had already caught the sidelong glances Dean had been throwing at him. For Buffy's sake, at least, he was going to try and hold it in.

They laid up for the night in motel rooms with an adjoining doorway. Buffy and Sam took one, John and Dean the other. Despite the late hour Dean offered to go get some beers and dragged his brother along. John and Buffy were squaring off as they left.

"Okay," Sam said after they'd pulled out of the parking lot, "spit it out. I know we're not really going for a beer run at one in the morning."

"Something's wrong with Buffy."

"Huh. I thought you weren't paying attention."

"What? Why?"

"Because you weren't saying anything."

"Dude, she freaking beat that shtriga's head in with the kid's bat. I don't want to think about the therapy Michael gets to go through after that."

Sam sighed. "She keeps talking about dying. Like it's inevitable."

"Well, I mean, she _already_ died. Not like it'd be a new experience."

"Exactly! She keeps saying she's all right, but I don't think she's over it. We need to watch her, _especially_ now that there's vampires involved."

"She might go all She-Hulk on them. Can't say that'd be a bad thing."

"Sure, then she gets so maniacal about killing them she forgets we're in the fight too. Then someone gets _hurt_."

"Yeah, okay. I get it. Right now I just hope we get back and dad's still in one piece."

* * *

Buffy folded her arms tight and stared up at her father. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Go on! Start telling me I was stupid and to never do that again and… and that boys are bad."

John chuckled and shook his head. "It wasn't stupid, but it wasn't nice to do to your old man. Buffy, I might have never wanted you in this life but it came and yanked you in anyways. The fact that you can defend yourself makes me feel better."

"And the boys?"

Her father's eyebrows lifted. "Do I gotta worry about any when you've been hanging around this whole time with your trigger happy brothers?"

"Guess not." Buffy perked up. "So you're not going to hold me back?"

"Hadn't planned on it. Long as you follow my lead we've got nothing to worry about."

" _Your_ lead? Dad, if these are vampires then we should be following _my_ lead. You know, me being a Vampire Slayer and all."

"That ain't how this works, Buffy. If you're coming along on this job you do what I tell you or I send you home."

"But—"

"No buts!" John said, his volume rising. "This ain't Sunnydale and you ain't walkin' all over me like you walk all over Rupert. You don't do this my way then you might as well be locked up in here while we go out and handle things." When his daughter merely stared, her jaw set, he demanded, "Well?"

"Fine," Buffy managed to drag out.

"Good. Now head on back to your room. We're probably gettin' an early start tomorrow. Don't forget to salt those doors and windows!"

"Yeah, yeah."

John turned his attention to a set of radios, a silent reaffirmation of his dismissal. Buffy huffed quietly and stomped into her room, slamming the door on the way. Her father shook his head ruefully. Soldier of his she might be, and now under his purview, but he still had a soft spot for her; that sort of attitude from the boys would have had him in a rage. Instead John let her be, and wondered faintly why his daughter was so bent on throwing herself to the wolves.

* * *

Thankfully, Sam and Dean came back to two intact family members. Their father and sister were in separate rooms, and Buffy was still fuming over whatever they had talked about, but physically they were fine. The brothers exchanged apprehensive glances before heading to their beds.

John woke them all up around five. He got a lesson in patience when he got to his daughter. Through their weeks of traveling the brothers had discovered that Buffy was _not_ a morning person. Their sister was good for staying up late, but getting her up in the morning was a trial. Sam normally bore the brunt of her temper; Dean was prone to late night bar crawls and falling asleep in the beds of random women. Let Buffy get her coffee and her ablutions in and she would be back to normal, but until then she could be as recalcitrant as a five year old.

Buffy actually whined at her father about the state of her face and hair until he mentioned the vampires. Apparently a 911 call about a body in the middle of the road had turned up an abandoned car and three missing people. After hearing that she forewent her tantrum (much to the bemusement of her brothers), pulled on her jeans, and was good to go.

When they arrived at the scene, John ordered his children to stay put. He picked an FBI badge from their box of counterfeit IDs and walked over to the police.

Buffy blinked at the expression on Sam's face. "What's with the angry eyebrows?"

"I don't see why we couldn't have gone over with him."

"Oh, don't tell me it's already starting," Dean groused.

"What?" Sam asked brusquely.

"What?" Buffy repeated, looking back and forth confusedly at each of her brothers. "What's starting? Is it a vampire thing? What's the thing? Tell me what the thing is!"

Buffy's barrage of rambling questions effectively bewildered the brothers out of their impending argument. Their father approached unnoticed and relayed what he'd discovered, his voice startling his children. "It was them all right," he said. "Looks like they're heading west. We'll have to double back to get around that detour."

"How can you be so sure?" Sam demanded petulantly.

Dean spoke his brother's name under an exasperated sigh and shook his head. Sam turned towards him and snapped, "I just want to know we're going in the right direction."

"We are," Buffy answered. Her male relatives all looked at her as she pointed at the abandoned car. "I can tell they were there."

"How the hell…?" Dean started to ask.

"Slayer's senses," John said grimly. He shot a glare at his younger son. "Any more questions?" When he received nothing more than sullen silence, John told his children, "All right, let's get out of here; we're losing daylight."

"Can I ride with you?" Buffy asked cheerily.

"Sure," John responded. As father and daughter headed for his truck, the former remarked, "Hey, Dean. Why don't you touch up your car before you get rust? I wouldn't have given you the damn thing if I thought you were going to ruin it."

As she climbed into John's truck, Buffy watched her brothers. Sam gave Dean a knowing, exasperated look before the two of them entered the Impala. All this tension and weirdness added to her growing supposition that something big had happened between Sam and their father and she was determined to suss it out.

* * *

They drove swiftly down the asphalt, John leading. Buffy watched her brothers through the back window. Whatever they were discussing had Sam incensed and Dean defensive; her younger brother was gesticulating angrily while he drove and her elder brother was hunched down while supposedly consulting their father's diary. She turned back to face the front and ventured, "Dad, what's going on with you and Sam?"

"Nothing you need to worry about."

"Well seeing as how we're heading into a nest of vamps and we wanna fight together I think it _is_ a thing to worry about."

John sighed. His daughter had this in her teeth and wasn't going to let go. Since Joyce had thrown him out John and Buffy hadn't seen each other more than once every few months (sometimes narrowed to weeks if more than one hunt took him near California), but it was enough time to watch his little girl form. Buffy had become as obstinate as her father and as perceptive as her mother, the latter developing mostly after she had grown out of her valley girl phase. He suspected _that_ particular time of her life had been snuffed quickly after a Spring Break that Dean had spent relentlessly mocking her new attitude.

However, this issue between him and Sam wasn't something he wanted to air in front of his beloved daughter. It had taken him a long time of hunting and thinking, but John had eventually realized that Buffy reminded him of Mary, what with her blonde hair and fierce attitude. The physical resemblance was vague at most, but it made him want to do everything he could to shield her from the evils of his world.

The same evils that were most likely swirling around her younger brother.

"It's just a thing, Buffy," John finally replied. "Not everyone in every family gets along."

"Well, _duh_ , but last time you two were all huggy and stuff." She thought for a moment. "Is it because he went to Stanford?"

John's knuckles tightened on the wheel. "Buffy, I ain't talkin' about this right now."

"I was just—"

"Young lady, I said I ain't talking about this and that's final!"

Which inadvertently answered her question. Buffy remembered the day Sam showed up on their doorstep in Los Angeles. He'd been driving a car with dubious origins and had all of his somewhat meager belongings in a duffel on the backseat. Hank had been doubtful about letting him in the home, but after hearing what had transpired between Sam and and his father he was more amenable; Joyce's husband pounced gleefully upon any chance to criticize John Winchester (which did nothing to endear Buffy to her stepfather).

Sam explained that his father had thrown him out and he was now at a loss about where to go. He ended up staying with them until the beginning of the first semester, acting the entire time like a polite houseguest and a dutiful brother. But Buffy knew he was missing Dean. She caught him more than once picking up the phone, beginning to dial a number, then slamming it down and walking away. When she broached the subject of their elder brother Sam played it off like it was inconsequential, but it was obvious he felt otherwise. Her younger brother might harbor resentment towards their father but she knew how deep the bond with Dean went.

When it was time for school to begin, Joyce happily took her daughter and pseudo-stepson on a shopping excursion (despite her husband's grousing). Buffy didn't think Sam had ever had so many new clothes at once in his entire life, not to mention a full array of school supplies and a laptop just for him. The three of them then made the six hour drive north from Los Angeles to Palo Alto to drop him off. Joyce invited Sam to stay with them during the summers with an open door if he wanted to visit during the school year.

Buffy saw Sam relatively often, at least once a month, and even if he spent most of his time doing homework he always made room in his schedule for something with her and her mom (Hank conveniently found business trips when Sam came around). Not once did Buffy see her brother try again to contact either John or Dean.

Now as she gazed at her father's white knuckles and tightly pressed lips Buffy was beginning to think that maybe the previous communication blackout had been _imposed_ by John rather than volunteered by Sam. There had to have been more than just being "thrown out" for them to still be clinging to this animosity. She would just have to wait to find out.

* * *

It turned out Buffy didn't have to wait long. Her father called her brothers with a terse command to turn off at the next exit. They both then watched, astonished, as Sam gunned the Impala in front of the truck and swerved it into an angle across the road. John was forced to slam on the brakes to prevent t-boning his sons.

"Dad, no!" Buffy cried as John wrenched open the door and pounded the pavement towards her brothers. She could hear Dean calling out Sam's name in much the same tone.

"What the hell was that?" their father demanded as he and his youngest son advanced upon one another.

Both Buffy and Dean came hurrying up behind them as they stopped nearly chest to chest, nostrils flaring and fists clenched. Sam ignored his father's query and angrily stated, "We need to talk."

"About what?"

"About _everything_. Where are we going dad? What's the big deal about this gun?"

"Sammy, come on," Dean urged, "we can Q and A after we kill all the vampires."

"Right, remember them?" Buffy added. "Fanged guys tagging the locals as lunch?"

"They're right," John said. "We don't have time for this."

Sam's expression was thunderous. "Last time we saw you, you just took off and said we didn't have any business going with you. Now out of the blue you need our help!" His voice had risen to a shout. "Now obviously something big is going down, and we want to know what!"

"Get back in the car," their father growled.

"No."

"I _said_ ," John demanded, quietly and dangerously, "get back in the damn car."

"Yeah? And I said no."

"Okay you made your point tough guy," Dean attempted (Buffy continued to be nonplussed by the scene). "Look we're all tired, we can talk about this later. Sammy, I mean it, _come on_." He grabbed his brother's arm and yanked him towards the Impala.

"This is why I left in the first place," Sam mumbled.

"What'd you say?" John asked harshly.

His younger son swiveled back around. "You heard me."

"Yeah? You _left_. Your brother and me, we needed you. _You_ walked away, Sam!"

"Sam," Dean pleaded at the same time Buffy said, "Dad, no."

Enraged, John stepped into Sam's face and roared, " _You walked away_!"

Both Dean and Buffy began begging their father and brother to be civil, the latter going so far as to pull a little on her father's sleeve. "You're the one who said don't come back, Dad," Sam shouted back. " _You_ closed that door not me. You were just pissed off that you couldn't control me anymore!"

Finally, Dean managed to wedge himself between his father and brother. At the same time, Buffy tapped into her Slayer strength to jerk her father away. "Stop it, stop it," Dean snarled, "That's enough!"

Sam turned away first, but when John looked ready to continue their argument Dean snapped, "That means you, too."

Both Sam and John stormed off towards their respective cars. Dean threw up his hands and dropped them. "Terrific."

"Dean," Buffy said, astonished. "What was that?"

"That was something that was a long time coming." Dean patted his sister's shoulder as John barked his daughter's name. He pushed her gently towards the truck. "You better get going. Don't ask dad about it, okay?"

Her curiosity stifled by the agony in her brother's eyes, Buffy agreed. She could only hope that whatever this was didn't impede them during the upcoming fight.

* * *

They didn't make it to the vampire's hideout until early the next morning which, Buffy explained, was a good thing; the sun would have the monsters holed up and most likely sleeping. The barn the creatures had picked was shored up so not a single beam of light peeked through. To all outward appearances the place looked abandoned; the incongruent presence of a smeared, bloody handprint on the front door spoke of something terrible inside.

"Plenty of wood," Buffy whispered. "Stakes aren't an issue."

"Beheading works too," John added. "But bullets won't do shit. You boys still keeping the holy water stocked?"

"Yes, sir," answered Dean.

"How many are inside?" Sam asked.

"A lot," said Buffy. "More than two, less than twenty."

"Gee, that helps," Dean deadpanned.

Buffy stuck her tongue out at her elder brother as their father said, "So you three really want to know about this gun?"

When his children nodded, John relayed the tale of Samuel Colt and his miraculous pistol. Seven bullets were all that remained. John's friend Daniel had discovered it who knows when. "They say this gun can kill anything," John concluded.

Dean's eyes widened. "Kill anything like, supernatural anything?"

"Like the demon," Sam inferred.

"Banana eyes?" Buffy asked.

"Yep," affirmed John. "Ever since I picked up its trail I've been looking for a way to destroy that thing. Find the gun, we may have it."

"Then after that it's all puppy and rainbows?"

"Pretty much."

* * *

John reluctantly let Buffy take the forward position after she pointed out that she was geared _specifically_ for this sort of monster. After Dean had passed out bottles of holy water and John some pre-made stakes they crept for the barn doors.

Buffy carefully pushed one open, wincing at the creak of rusted hinges. Nothing in the darkness stirred, but she could see and feel each of the fourteen vampires sleeping in the hay or on makeshift hammocks. Two were curled up together in a larger one of the latter.

She peered around more as they slowly inched inside. There were steel cages in the back filled with humans who eyed the intruders with hope and trepidation. As Sam silently shut the door, Buffy tapped Dean on the shoulder and pointed. He nodded and headed over to the prisoners, Sam on his heels.

John and Buffy headed for the pair on the hammock. The gun they were looking for was displayed prominently on a crate beside them. As Buffy kept watch, John sidled up to the crate and reached for the gun.

When a pale, female hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, John stifled his shout. Over the edge of the hammock a beautiful brunette peered over, her mad, brown eyes fixed on her prey.

"Spike," she cooed and the vampire on her side stirred, "bring out the tea and biscuits. Someone's here to play."

* * *

 **Acknowledgement** : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episode "Dead Man's Blood" (SPN 1.20).

 **Author's Note** : I promise Spike or Drusilla won't meet the same fate as Luther. Cross my heart, hope to die, put Mr. Pointy in my eye.


	10. Book I: Chapter 10

(10/22/2016) In the middle of my final paper so some good vibes my way would be nice!

Almost done with the first seasons of both these shows, and then we get to the fun stuff! Angelus and Ruby and Lillith, oh my.

Thanks to **thedarkpokemaster** , **jkmp28** , **RHatch89** , and **philly cheese dude** for the reviews! All of you favoriting and following get yummy persimmons!

* * *

With a noisy yawn a platinum blonde head peeked over the side of the brunette and gave John Winchester a smirk. "Dru, love," he said, "I had no idea that you ordered delivery."

The insouciant, mocking attitude of the two English vampires sparked John's temper. The woman, Dru, sounded cultured, her words slithering out in a cold drawl, but the man brought to mind a Harvard graduate trying to mimic a street thug. The hunter focused on the male. "Who the hell are you?"

The blonde, Spike presumably, hopped out of his hammock as the woman's grip tightened. John let out a grunt as bones began grinding together on his wrist. The vampire shrugged a long black coat back into place as he asked, "No, who are _you_? Bet you're one of those bloody hunters. Going to show you've got the biggest wrinklies by finally doing me in?" The vampire spotted Buffy. "Oh look, Dru," he said as his face distorted, the plates crunching and shifting as he took on his demonic form. "An appetizer!"

"Buffy, run!" John roared as he grabbed the Colt and pistol-whipped the female. She released him with a cry and he scrambled to his feet, snatching up the bullets and loading the gun as quickly as he could.

Retaliation from an outraged Spike was halted by a clunk echoing from the back; Sam and Dean had finally picked the enormous, rusted padlock on the cage door. The vampire's head snapped towards them as Dean herded the men and women away crying, "Go go go go go!"

"Wake up, you idiots!" Spike shouted. The other creatures jerked awake. "Get them!"

Most of the vampires went for Sam and Dean, erroneously assuming that they were the biggest threats. Their father found himself once again struggling with Dru for the Colt. He was a little puzzled as to her pallor and lack of strength; if she had been healthy John knew he would be having a much more difficult time.

A few went for Buffy, figuring she was just some tiny hunter and therefore easy prey. When she met the first one with a spinning kick and immediately plunged a stake into his heart the miscalculation became obvious. The second and the third met equally rapid demises.

An eager Spike began circling Buffy. "So, little girl," he purred, "fancy taking me on?"

"I'm always up for fancy," Buffy shot back as she kept the vampire in her sights. "You have to dip your whole head in bleach to get that look?"

With a primal snarl Spike launched himself at her. She ducked under a punch and threw one of her own. The vampire leaned out of the way, laughing. "You got some moves, girl! Not your standard little huntress, are you?"

"Hey!" John shouted over the ruckus. Both Spike and Buffy froze and turned. Dru's neck was locked under John's arm and the Colt was pointed at her head. Her face was paler than it had been, fear writ large on her expression.

Spike gave a roar and stepped towards them only to halt when John cocked the gun. "I'm going to rip out your insides and make you eat them!" the vampire hissed through his fangs.

"Sure," John replied. "But your honey-bun here will be dust long before that."

"Spike?" Dru whispered.

The vampire's face reverted as he was drawn to a scuffle off to one side. "Not to worry, love," he said, a cocky smirk set on his lips.

Spike backed up a few steps to allow a pair of vampires hauling Sam and Dean to come into better view. The brothers were struggling fruitlessly; Sam tight lipped and glowering and Dean throwing choked out obscenities. At a nod from Spike, his cronies rapaciously buried their fangs into the boys' necks.

"No, stop it!" Buffy shrieked as she tried to go to their rescue. Two more monsters, bloodied but mobile, appeared, each taking hold of one of Buffy's arms. Spike snapped his fingers a few times and the vampires lifted their reddened mouths, the brothers' movements now sluggish. Blood trickled down and stained the front of their shirts.

"Now," said Spike, staring straight at a horrified John, "I can let my friends here finish their feast, _or_ you can let Dru go and maybe, _just_ maybe, I let the lot of you walk on out of here." When John remained obstinate, the vampire yelled, "Tick tock old man!" The other four creatures began growling hungrily.

"All right!" John shouted. "All right." He released Dru and she staggered forward into Spike's arms. The vampire caught her, dissonantly gentle, and lowered her to a hay bale. John then demanded, "Now let them go."

Spike jerked his head. All three of John's children were released. Weakened by blood loss Sam and Dean collapsed to their hands and knees. Buffy and John rushed towards them, the former shouldering Dean and the latter the significantly taller Sam. "What happened?" Buffy whispered.

"Eight at once," Dean mumbled. "Got a couple, though. Assholes."

"You know what?" Spike suddenly said as the family carefully backed up towards the doors. "I changed my mind." He smiled maliciously. "I think I _will_ kill the lot of you." His face transformed once again and he and his four remaining minions stormed forward.

Burdened as they were by her weakened brothers, Buffy determined that their chance to survive this encounter had quickly diminished. Regardless, she set her jaw and hurried towards the doors, Dean's much taller frame dragging across the dirt and hay. To her astonishment her father hadn't moved. Instead, John had prepared the Colt and was pointing it directly at Spike.

The shot rang out. Spike managed to wrench another male vampire in front of him to take the bullet and the tableau froze. Everyone stared at the creature to see what would happen.

The thing staggered and clutched the center of his bare chest where a macabre, burnt wheel designated the bullet's entry point. He jerked as his insides abruptly lit up. Electricity arced about within his body, the bright orange glow shadowing his ribs and skull. The vampire only had time for one more dumbfounded look before disintegrating.

The other vampires angrily started towards the family but were brought up short by a piercing whistle from John. They faltered upon seeing that he had the Colt pointed in their general direction.

Spike glowered, his eyes locking on each of their faces. "Night falls," he growled, "and you all _die_."

Buffy kicked open the barn doors, the sunlight forcing the vampires back. Dean had regained enough energy to flip the monsters an obscene gesture before they were gone.

* * *

Spike turned towards his beloved Drusilla. His lovely had her eyes fixed on the retreating hunters. "What is it?" he asked, kneeling before her as one of his peons braved the burns to circle around the doors and shut them.

"The tall one," she murmured, "his blood sings. It sings something _wonderful_. And when the song ends, his insides will be the devil's plaything." Drusilla gave a tired giggle.

"Then he's yours," her paramour promised. "Once it's dark, I'll go retrieve the bloody giant and you can listen to that song all you like."

"No," Drusilla crooned as she took Spike's hands and stood. "No. The song needs to play." She gazed off into nothing. "The yellow eyed man, he was the composer. We should give him flowers."

"After you're better. Fuck the hunters, love. Let's make our way to the Hellmouth like we've planned."

"Yes. Then we get to hear the _finale_."

* * *

Back at the motel, John and Buffy bandaged Sam and Dean's neck wounds. Their father forced iron pills on his sons and a good deal of water. When Dean whined for beer, Buffy whacked him upside the head. "Ow!"

"We're getting out of here," John announced. "Within the hour."

"And then what?" asked Buffy.

"Then you're going home."

" _What_?"

"I'm putting you on a plane. I already called Joyce; she's picking you up from the Santa Barbara airport."

"No! You've got your gun and I know the next thing you're going to do is go for banana eyes. Let me help!"

John turned away from his children. He hunched his shoulders as he stared down at the worn wood of the motel dresser. What he was going to say to his daughter was necessary, _God_ it was necessary, but he had to be sure she lived. What he had done, what he was going to do, it would all be worth it if at least _one_ of his children made it out of this battle intact. "Buffy," John began, clenching his fists, "you ain't a Winchester."

She stared, eyes wide. Both of her brothers stiffened, Sam's jaw tightening with rage. In a small voice, Buffy asked, "What?"

Her father turned around and looked at her. "You ain't a Winchester. You're a _Summers_. That means you don't got a right to be there when we take this thing down."

Eyes shimmering with tears, Buffy drew herself up, outraged. " _Excuse_ me? Are you telling me I'm not one of you?"

John closed the few steps between him and his daughter and loomed over her. "I'm saying that this is about something that started long before you were even an _idea_. This ain't your fight and you don't belong. So you're gonna head on back to that Hellmouth of yours, do your Slayer thing, and stay out of our way."

"I am _not_ —"

"You will do as I say!" John roared. "I might not have had the patience to cart your spoiled ass around like I had to do with your brothers, but I am still your father! So you go on to that room over there and _pack_ or so help me…"

Buffy maintained the facade of simple indignation for a moment more. Then her face crumpled. She gasped out a sob before tearing out of the room and slamming shut the adjoining door.

Sam stood up and locked eyes with his father. The disgust and hostility in his younger son's eyes made John's heart plummet. As they squared off, Dean prepared himself to stop one or the other of them from a physical confrontation. Thankfully, without a word, Sam turned and chose to follow his sister into their shared room.

As John turned back towards the dresser, his eldest son murmured, "What the fuck, dad?"

"She can't be there."

"She's got frigging _super powers_ , dad! If we could trust anyone to help us gank that asshole it'd be our own family."

"Dean," John said wearily as he pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, "just get ready to leave."

The small crack in that final word stifled Dean's objections. Whatever Buffy was feeling he had the impression that their father was feeling something even worse. After a moment more of staring at the eldest Winchester's back, trying his best to fathom why his father wanted to shield the girl as much as he did, Dean did what he was told.

* * *

Sam did most of Buffy's packing; she had curled into a ball of misery onto her bed. The wrath he felt towards his father buried logic; had Sam been able to think clearly for a moment he might have realized John's ulterior motive. He _might_ have seen that his sister would never have given up the certainty that she belonged with them on this hunt. He _might_ have understood that his father wanted the baby of his progeny safe. As it was, all the younger brother recognized was that Buffy had been hurt and it was his father's fault.

Sam took the time folding his sister's clothes to reflect on his relationship with her and her mother. After their father's estrangement, the brothers' contact with Joyce and Buffy had been haphazard at best. They would swing by for a few days or weeks whenever a hunt took John to Southern California, always with months in between. And yet the bond between the siblings grew strong enough that when they were together they were a family, three children who acted as if they'd been together for all their lives.

Dean didn't consider Joyce as much more than Buffy's progenitor, but Sam was enthralled by her maternal gestures. Mary Winchester, as precious as she was to her surviving family members, had died before her youngest son could know her. Joyce was there, was more than just a memory. Thus, when Sam tore himself away from the brother that meant more to him than life it was to the Summers' home he went to.

For nearly three years _they_ were his family (less so Hank Sutherland, particularly after the fiasco with the psychiatric facility). Until Dean had shown up inside his home in Palo Alto, Sam figured that the next time he'd hear about his father or brother would be someone telling him that they were dead. Once on the road the two brothers had reaffirmed their family connection almost immediately. Reestablishing the tie between Sam and his father, however, would take far more time, if it could be done at all.

"Excuse me," Buffy said abruptly. She stood up from her bed and headed for the bathroom.

"What're you doing?" Sam asked.

"Oh, I dunno. Take a shower, fix my face, pretend that my father isn't a big fat _jerk_."

"He didn't mean it," her brother attempted.

Buffy gave him a condescending look; Sam's insincerity was obvious. "Ten minutes."

"Okay, Buff'."

The bathroom door clicked shut. After a moment, Sam heard the shower begin to run. He considered heading to the other room, maybe caving his father's nose in, but changed his mind when Dean creaked open the adjoining door. "Hey," said the eldest brother, "she gonna be okay?"

"Eventually."

Dean walked into the room. "Dad went to gas up the truck. He said he's going to take her to the airport soon as she's ready." He fidgeted for a moment. "You know it's for her own good."

"Bullshit," Sam snarled. "He just wants her out of the way."

"Dude, she's still a kid! She's got friends, her mom, even that freaking vampire douchebag to go back to. We don't got nothing other than this." Dean shrugged. "She deserves better."

Sam grimaced, unconvinced. "I guess." The shower squeaked off and, impulsively, Sam held his hand out to his brother. "Give me the keys."

"Uh, why?"

" _I'm_ driving her to the airport. I think it's better that way."

Dean hesitated a moment before reaching into his pocket and relinquishing the Impala. "Make sure she actually gets gone."

The younger brother nodded then went to knock on the bathroom door. "Buffy! Hurry it up. I'll drive if you can get out before dad gets back."

"'Kay," she answered.

"You know dad's going to be pissed," Dean commented.

"Yeah, well, when is he not."

* * *

Upon seeing her daughter's stricken, tear-swollen face Joyce forwent asking how her summer had been and instead just gave her a tremendous hug. Whatever had happened between John and their child was undoubtedly _his_ fault, even though when he called he'd implied that Buffy had committed some transgression, and the girl would tell her mother in due time. In the interim, Joyce would lavish matronly affection upon her.

As they drove to Sunnydale, Joyce suddenly said, "Oh! I forgot. There are some new neighbors a few houses down. Guess the Fogerty's decided to move out and rent the place since all their kids are grown."

"Weird." Buffy thought the kindly old couple had intended to die in that house, seeing as how they had raised three children inside.

"They're a couple of college kids going to the UC. One of the girls said she was willing to come give you some tutoring if you need it."

"Do I _need_ tutoring?" Buffy wondered dryly.

"Well, let's see what kind of grades you get this first semester."

"What's her name?"

"What was it," Joyce murmured as she tried to think. "Meg! Her name's Meg."

* * *

They arrived home around two. After settling in, Buffy made the requisite calls to Willow and Xander. Plans for The Bronze were made, permission was received, and all seemed to be getting back to normal.

She didn't expect to hear from either her brothers or her father that day and was surprised when Sam sent a text. _Dad and I talked_ , it said. _Cleared the air about me leaving for school._

Buffy sent a basic message back: _Okay._

 _He didn't mean what he said._

 _Sure._

 _He'll call when we get to Colorado. Dean says to have a beer and chill. Don't._

That made Buffy smile a little. _I promise. Don't let dad forget._

 _Okay. Talk to you soon._

* * *

Willow and Xander met Buffy on the sidewalk outside of her home, the both of them eagerly asking for the minutiae of her trip. She began griping about the various, skeevy lodgings she'd been forced to endure when a young woman with short, blonde hair approached.

"Hi!" she said amicably. "You must be Buffy. I'm Meg, from down the street?"

Something about the girl made Buffy's skin crawl. She managed a half-hearted greeting. "Hey, yeah. Mom told me about you guys."

"Listen, me and my roomies are going to have a little get-together later. I know you're underage, but what your mom won't know won't kill her." Meg shot them a conspiratorial grin. "Consider it our way of introducing ourselves to the neighborhood."

Xander started to reply positively when Buffy cut him off. "No thank you. I just got back from a super long trip and I need some time to catch up with my friends."

"Okay! Well, if you change your mind, come on by."

"Thanks," Buffy said, turning Willow in the general direction of The Bronze. "I'll talk to you later."

"Have fun."

"Why are we not partaking of the booze and older ladies?" Xander wondered piteously as they walked away.

"I don't know," Buffy answered. "Just something about her I don't like."

"Me neither," added Willow. "Like she was hiding something, you know?"

Not wanting to ruin the evening, Buffy shelved her suspicions. "Oh well. C'mon! I haven't heard some good music in _ages_."

"Why not?" asked Xander.

"Apparently Dean is ignorant of any music within the last… forever. Plus the Impala's only got a tape deck."

"Wow. Talk about living in the past. Do they even _make_ tapes anymore?"

"Yeah," Willow snorted, "you should tell him about, you know, these round shiny things with songs on them. I hear it's all the new craze."

The three of them derided Buffy's brother a little more, talked about what they'd done since they last parted, and had a wonderfully normal good time. Tomorrow, Buffy decided, would be soon enough to contact Giles and resume her Slayer duties. Today she decided to just be a girl.


	11. Book I: Chapter 11

(10/26/2016) This chapter is concluding "Book 1," aka season 1 of both shows. I'm separating them into books for my sanity. Next up: season 2 of Buffy and season 2 and 3 of Supernatural! Be forewarned: the Supernatural stuff will be all out of order in order to lead up to a big finale that'll hopefully make sense.

There's a section in here with medical babble in it. Fellow crossover writer **Authoressinhiding** gets absolutely _all_ the credit for it. If she's reading this, thank you thank you thank you!

 **Note** : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episode "Salvation" (SPN 1.21).

Thank you **philly cheese dude** , **IAmMattis** , **missmeow1968** , and **NightWatcher666** for the reviews! And all you new quiet favoriters and followers get delicious pomegranate seeds.

* * *

August 14, 2006

 **Faribault County Register**

The Faribault County Sheriff's office is investigating the brutal murder of Pastor Jim Murphy.

"Pastor Jim," as he was known, was found by parishioners lying on the floor of his church between two pews. Preliminary reports say that the murderer cut the pastor's throat. No reliquaries or other valuables have been stolen. Police are currently assuming that this was a personal vendetta.

Witnesses claim to have seen a young woman with short blonde hair enter the church approximately one hour prior to the estimated time of death. If you or anyone you know has any details regarding this woman, please call the Blue Earth Police Department at (507) 555–5959.

* * *

August 15, 2006

( _Phone call from the demon known as Meg to Sam Winchester_ )

SAM: Hello?

MEG: Sam?

SAM: Who is this?

MEG: Think _real_ hard. It'll come to you.

SAM: _Meg_. Last time I saw you, you were running scared after Angel threw a stake into your chest.

MEG: And then you went and killed all my friends! That _really_ hurt my feelings by the way. Now, let me speak to your dad.

SAM: My dad. I don't know where my dad is.

MEG: It's time for the grown ups to talk Sam, let me speak to him _now_.

JOHN: This is John.

MEG: Howdy, John. I'm Meg. I'm a friend of your boys. I'm _also_ the one who watched Jim Murphy choke on his own blood. ( _3 seconds of silence_ ) Still there Johnny-boy?

JOHN: I'm here.

MEG: Well, that was two days ago. Today I'm back home. Do you know who I can see from my bedroom window? She's small and blonde and she's _feisty_ when she's riled.

JOHN: ( _low whisper_ ) Buffy. ( _louder_ ) You listen to me. She's got nothing to do with anything! _You leave her alone!_

MEG: We know you have the Colt, John.

JOHN: I don't know what you're talking about.

MEG: Oh, okay. I guess I'll just pop on over to my new neighbor's house to go say hello.

JOHN: You take one step towards my daughter and I swear I'll—

MEG: We know you have the gun, John. Word travels fast. So as far as we're concerned, you just declared war.

JOHN: I'm gonna kill you, you know that?

MEG: Oh, John, _please_. Mind your blood pressure. So this is the thing. We're going to go over to that house. We're going to have _fun_ with your little girl and her mommy. Then we're going to start sending them to you, piece by piece. _Or_ you bring us the Colt and we leave Buffy and her mommy alone. ( _4 seconds of silence_ ) I'm waiting, Johnny! Better answer before the buzzer.

JOHN: Okay.

MEG: Sorry? I didn't quite get that.

JOHN: I said _okay_ , I'll bring you the Colt.

MEG: There's a warehouse in Lincoln, on the corner of Wabash and Lake. You're going to meet me there.

JOHN: It's gonna take me about a day's drive to get there.

MEG: Meet me there at midnight _tonight_.

JOHN: That's impossible. I can't get there in time and I can't just carry a gun on the plane.

MEG: Oh. Well I guess the kiddo dies anyways. If you do decide to make it, _come alone_.

* * *

August 18, 2006

( _Text conversation between Sam Winchester and Buffy Summers_ )

SAM: Do you know a Meg

BUFFY: Yeah, sort of. Moved in down the street. Why?

SAM: 3 guys still there are demons. Meg was too

BUFFY: Knew something wasn't right. What do you mean "was"

SAM: She's dead. Well, the woman Meg is dead. We found out how to exorcise the demon

BUFFY: Yeah? Send the 411

SAM: ( _picture of devil's trap_ ) Draw this on the floor or ceiling. Traps the assholes. Tie them down

BUFFY: Art and bondage, got it

SAM: Then chant this:  
Exorcizamus te, Omnis Immundus Spiritus, Omnis Satanica Potestas, Omnis Incursio Infernalis Adversarii, Omnis Congregatio et Secta Diabolica, Ergo Draco Maledicte, Ut Ecclesiam Tuam Servire, Tibi Facias Libertate Secura, Te Rogamus, Audi Nos

BUFFY: I don't know how to speak Spanish

SAM: Latin. Get Giles to help

BUFFY: Fine

SAM: Try not to let the body get too hurt. Once the demon's out it's a person again

BUFFY: Person?

SAM: Demons are hitching a ride in regular people. Angel threw a stake in Meg and someone shot her. Demon was the only thing that kept her alive

BUFFY: That sucks

SAM: Yeah I know. Let me know if it goes ok. We're off to rescue dad

BUFFY: Wait, what? Rescue dad? What's going on?

BUFFY: Sam?

BUFFY: Sam?

BUFFY: Goddamnit one of you text me back!

* * *

August 19, 2006

( _Transcript of 911 call to Metro Communications Agency_ )

"911, what's your emergency?"

"Jesus, oh God, I'm on the highway, I–90, mile or two from Valley Springs. I think… I think my truck—Hey! Buddy! Come on, man, please don't be dead!"

"Sir? Was there an accident? I'm sending help to you right now. Are you hurt?"

"No, no, I'm fine. There's… There's three of 'em in a black car, three men, only one's awake and the other two don't look so good. Oh God, did I do this? I don't remember gettin' here! How did I get here?"

"Sir? Are you on drugs? Should I alert emergency personnel to be prepared?"

"No! I'm not on no drugs! I'm just—Hey buddy, no no no! I don't think you should be movin' just yet! The authorities, they're on the way!"

"Okay, sir. Please calm down."

"Oh God, I'm so sorry. There's the ambulance. I gotta explain that I didn't know what I was doing! I gotta tell 'em I don't know how I got here—"

( _Call cuts abruptly_ )

* * *

August 20, 2006

( _Patient chart by S. Thompson, MD, Sanford Emergency Department, Sioux Falls, South Dakota_ )

ID: Dean McGillicutty is a 27 yo male who was brought in by ambulance following a MVA (motor vehicle accident). Patient was a restrained driver in a car vs. eighteen-wheeler collision.

Hospital Course: Upon arrival to the ED, the patient was tachycardic, hypotensive, and unresponsive to noxious stimuli. Pupils were pinpoint, with evidence of papilledema on fundoscopic exam. Exam findings at that time also included multiple lacerations to the face and hands, significant bruising to the left abdomen and chest, and a deep laceration along the left mid-clavicular line and fourth intercostal space.

Per protocol, he was intubated. FAST exam was negative, and patient was transported to the CT scanner. CT CAP showed grade II lacerations of the spleen, a contusion in the upper pole of the left kidney, and multiple small pneumothoraces in the left lung, as well as a cardiac contusion. CT Head non contrast showed significant cerebral edema with no signs of bleeding.

Following suturing of his lacerations in the ED, the patient was transferred to the Neurology ICU for further management of his cerebral edema, with Trauma Surgery following.

* * *

August 21, 2006

( _Phone call from John Winchester to Buffy Summers_ )

BUFFY: Hello?

JOHN: Buffy. It's your dad.

BUFFY: Oh. Hi.

JOHN: You got time to talk?

BUFFY: I guess.

JOHN: I know… I know you're probably still mad at me because of what I said. I only said it because I couldn't live with myself if the demon had done you harm.

BUFFY: I could have helped, you know. It's not like I'm just some girl. I'm the _Slayer_.

JOHN: ( _short chuckle_ ) Yeah, I guess you are. I never wanted this for you, kid, but fate went and bit you in the ass anyways. ( _deep sigh_ ) I shoulda told you sooner.

BUFFY: Tell me what? What's going on? Where are you?

JOHN: Nowhere. I just wanted to say that I wish I'd been around more often, seen more of you growing up. But you can tell your mom that she did a good job. You're a fine young lady. Anyone would be proud to call you their daughter.

BUFFY: ( _quietly_ ) Daddy?

JOYCE: ( _in the background_ ) Buffy? Is that your father? What's wrong?

JOHN: You contact those brothers of yours whenever you need them, you hear? I'll make sure that they go.

BUFFY: Why? Why do I need to call them and not you? You'd come if I called, right? _Right?_

JOHN: ( _2 seconds of silence_ ) Yeah. Of course, sweetheart. I've gotta go, Buffy. You take care.

BUFFY: What? No! Dad, talk to me! Tell me what this is all about! ( _click followed by ringtone_ )

* * *

( _Phone call from Dean Winchester to Buffy Summers_ )

BUFFY: Dean! What's going on? Where's dad? Why did he call me like that?

DEAN: Buffy…

BUFFY: He-He-He didn't sound right, he was… Something was wrong and-and he didn't want to tell me where you guys were or what really happened or anything! ( _whispering_ ) Why did he sound like he was saying goodbye?

DEAN: Dad… He's…

BUFFY: No. No, no, no, no, no. You don't say it. Don't you _dare_ say it.

DEAN: Buffy… dad's gone.

* * *

 **Author's Note** : Credit for Dean's chart goes to **Authoressinhiding**.


	12. Book II: Chapter 12

(10/30/2016) Yeah, this chapter was a lesson in not getting too far into characters' heads. My own father passed not five years ago very suddenly, although I'm fairly certain no demon deals were brokered. If you've still got your daddy, and he's a good father, make sure you show him. You never know when you might never see him again.

Anyways, enough with the melancholy. On to the melancholy chapter!

Thank you **wolfpoke** , **RHatch89** , **IoSolUno** (hello again!), **philly cheese dude** , **missmeow1958** , **thedarkpokemaster** , and **Ace Trainer Jesse** for the reviews! And Halloween goodies to all the favoriters and followers!

* * *

Buffy had no choice but to tell her mother what had happened. Naturally, she left out several pertinent details. Joyce then spent a hour with her daughter, shedding tears and sharing good memories, before making arrangements for Buffy to fly out to South Dakota. Dean had been adamant that her mother not come, as they had planned for a hunter's funeral rather than a conventional one, but Joyce decided on her own not to go. John's children, she believed, would be best off mourning him with only each other and not his vitriolic ex-girlfriend.

Sam and Dean picked her up from Sioux Falls Regional Airport and explained that Bobby Singer, an old friend, was handling the sticky business of getting their father from the hospital mortuary. Buffy was surprised to see the salvage yard that surrounded the man's home, and was even more surprised by the portly older man who answered the door. She'd figured that hunters were all rough drifters and the permanence of this place definitely said otherwise.

Bobby greeted her with a smile and a nod, called her "John's little girl, the Slayer," and invited them all inside. Beers were handed to her brothers, a generic lemon-lime soda can to her, and the three men got down to business. While they had discussed areas that would serve as a good place for the (highly illegal) funeral rites, Buffy took her chance to wander about the house.

The place was a mess. Books were piled in every corner, titles such as "The Black Compendium" mixed in with "The Dummy's Guide to Windows." Dust lay thick in areas where apparently nothing had been moved in a while. A squishy couch lay invitingly underneath a large window, surprisingly clear save for throw pillows and a blanket. On a wooden desk in front of the fireplace a myriad of dismantled weapons and occult items were strewn about in what must have been Bobby's personal organization system. Buffy picked up a silver bullet and admired it. "Shiny," she said to herself.

"Sure is," came Bobby's voice from behind her. Buffy jumped a little. "Deadly, too. If you're a werewolf or a shapeshifter."

"Well, far as I know I'm neither, so yay me." She put the bullet back where she found it. "Where's Jack and his Giant?"

"Out gettin' your father ready." Bobby cleared his throat. "Dean's wantin' to fix up that Impala of theirs, even though I told him all that's left is a pile of scrap. He's gonna be stickin' around for a bit. You staying, too? I can get you fixed up in a room upstairs."

"Yeah, I have another week until school starts. I _think_ I threw enough clothes in my suitcase for a week. If not, could you take me shopping?"

The elder hunter looked absolutely terrified by the thought of having to accompany a teenage girl on a shopping excursion. He swallowed and replied, "Sam can probably take care of that for ya. I've, uh… I've got some, uh, research to be doin'." Buffy watched the man try not to scurry as he headed for the stairs. "I'll be on the second floor clearing a room."

"Chicken," she groused. Well, if she was going to stick around she was going to have to do something about the kitchen. Buffy was fairly certain Dean's whole menu consisted of burgers and fries and Sam's had various salads. By the number of cans in the recycling Bobby was a fan of various chilis and soups.

Buffy texted her mom and asked for some simple dinner recipes. Dean's appetite would make her barf, Sam's would starve her, and Bobby's was just unnatural. She was going to have to learn to cook or risk starving to death.

* * *

After a spaghetti dinner (which Buffy thought was a great success, even if the noodles were a little smooshy), the three siblings loaded themselves up into a barely functioning four-door sedan and headed out. Once they arrived at the isolated copse, the eldest brother tried to assign the job of cleaning the detritus to Buffy and leave wood gathering to him and Sam. In response, she promptly walked over to a large fallen tree trunk and hefted it onto her shoulder. She plopped it down in the middle of the clearing as easily as someone else would have dropped a stick. Sam took the more tedious job instead.

None of them spoke beyond what was necessary. The physical effort of gathering and building made conversation blessedly difficult. Each of them tried their best to think about pleasant things (Zeppelin lyrics, a college class that had made a profound impact, dancing with friends) rather than the task ahead.

Eventually the brush had been cleared and the funereal pyre built. Night had fallen by then. Sam and Dean retrieved their father from the trunk of their ride and laid him gently on top of the stacked wood.

Buffy stared. Corpses were nothing new to her; she did, after all, live on a Hellmouth. This was, however, the first time she'd ever encountered the corpse of someone she loved.

Her brothers backed away as she approached. John was wrapped in several layers of muslin, his features now anonymous beneath white cloth. She reached out to grasp where she assumed his hand was. He was cold, so cold.

"Buffy," Sam said quietly.

His sister leaned in and gave their father one last kiss on his cheek, the familiar stubble prickling her through his shroud, then walked to where her brothers stood. She and Sam held each other tight as Dean struck up a book of matches and placed it underneath the body.

John's younger children wept unabashedly. Buffy remembered the elation she'd felt every time he had shown up at their door. When she was little her father would pick her up and give her a tremendous hug in greeting, her brothers doing the same as soon as she was put down. Buffy's mother would then chide John over something or other, (sometimes fondly, sometimes not), Hank would glower, and then Buffy would get a wonderful day with all three of her male blood relatives.

When they were all together they always did something fun. A day at the park, watching the buskers on Hollywood Boulevard, exploring a beach. Buffy now realized that there had been a perceptible release of tension to her father's shoulders during those days that rose immediately when it came time for him to leave. Knowing now exactly what those "jobs" of his entailed, she believed that he had relished those moments when he could forget that there were monsters and just be a dad, even if it was only for a few hours.

Sam felt, most heavily, guilt. Their last few days together as father and son had been colored mostly by animosity, most of it on his own end. He'd just been so _furious_ , so sure that all John Winchester wanted to do was set his sons' futures in order to ensure that the vendetta against yellow-eyes would last beyond his death. In that their father had at least gotten his wish; Sam and Dean were going to hunt that banana-eyed son of a bitch and put him down.

They were going to protect their sister as well. Slayer or not, John had made it very clear that he considered his youngest child, and his only girl, to be very precious. His boys had been with him for all their lives; the mission to avenge their mother a joint endeavor. Buffy was separate, normal (at least until this Slayer crap had come about). Those days when the four of them had been together were treasured. There were no monsters to be slain and innocents to be rescued; they were just the run-of-the-mill single father family doing their run-of-the-mill single father family things.

Their reality would snap back into place as soon as they were back on the road, but for those weeks or days or hours with his sister and her mother Sam would fall into the illusion of being just another little boy. Joyce's house was a bastion of stability and normalcy, Hellmouth be damned. Whatever happened next, Sam was going to make sure his sister would always have that regular life waiting for her on Revello Drive, and would never be consigned to the road and the hunt.

Dean was angry.

How _dare_ his father lay this burden on him. Dean knew _he_ should be dead, that no matter what anyone said his existence was an anomaly that blighted their world. It shouldn't be him standing here, it should be John. John was the one who should be immolating a family member; John was the one who should be dealing with the crushing grief of his children; John was the one that should be watching his youngest son for signs of corruption and evil.

 _Fuck you, dad_ , thought Dean.

Sam and Buffy had separated, the young girl huddling on the ground miserably. "Before he… before he went," choked out Sam, "did he say anything?"

 _Yeah,_ Dean wanted to say, _he said that I gotta prevent your going Dark Side. That happens, I have to put a bullet in you_. Instead, he told his brother, "No. Nothing."

It would take several hours for the cremation to be completed. After Buffy flopped over into the grass, exhausted by grief and travel, Dean pulled authority as the oldest family member and pressured Sam into taking her back to Bobby's. When they left, Dean considered taking the opportunity to air his grievances out loud.

Dean contented himself with muttering, "Fuck you, dad," and finished watching John Winchester burn.

* * *

The next few days were full of busywork. Buffy became fascinated with the way Bobby had to answer variously labeled phones. She tried to pick up one on her own, but when it turned out to be an irate member of the Cleveland Police Department she quickly handed it over. Bobby covered her lapse by telling the detective that she was his protege and still needed practice.

In the meantime, Buffy made a concerted effort to clear the clutter despite Bobby's grumbling that his stuff was being moved around. When her back was turned, the older hunter kept putting things back to their old, random places, much to Buffy's frustration. She got a good deal done when he and Sam left to Nebraska to get John's belongings out of his truck. By the time they returned she'd organized his books and dusted most of the downstairs. Bobby grudgingly admitted that the place looked and smelled better after Buffy's ministrations and left her to it afterwards.

Sam went through their father's things, mostly clothing and weaponry. Most of his time was spent breaking into John's cell phones. The voicemails he managed to retrieve were primarily old calls for help from other hunters. One or two were raunchy callbacks from questionable women. He promptly adopted selective ignorance towards what must have been his father's intimate proclivities.

Dean worked on the Impala and made spectacular progress. Seeing as how he banged, twisted, soldered, and cursed nearly 24/7 his accomplishment wasn't surprising. He rebuffed both his siblings' attempts to get him to take more than the most necessary breaks. The only lengthy one he took occurred after Buffy threatened to douse him in soapy water if he didn't take a shower. When he saw her grab a pail to make good on her word Dean threw down his wrench and marched his pungent self into the house and to the bathroom.

The third day after John's funeral found Dean underneath the Impala, Buffy scrubbing something that she thought might have once been a piece of cheese out of the carpet, and Sam going through yet another phone. Bobby was rummaging through books researching a creature some hunter had called about. He was fairly certain it was a shapeshifter but it was better to be safe than sorry.

"There!" Buffy exclaimed. She looked proudly at the formerly orange(ish) patch on the carpet. "That was disgusting."

"Man's gotta eat," Bobby said.

"Yes, but man should get more food in his mouth than on the floor."

"Bobby," Sam called from the kitchen, "do you know an Ellen?"

"Yeah, why?"

"She called dad saying she could help somehow with the demon. Do you know where she's at?"

"Runs a place called the Roadhouse. Let me get my contacts book…"

"First drawer, left side," Buffy said cheerfully.

"Thanks, kid," Bobby told her fondly. He retrieved the notebook and headed into the kitchen, Buffy on his heels. "Here," he told Sam as he handed over the book already opened on the requisite page.

Sam nodded and stood. "I'm going to drag Dean out from under the car. You got something we can borrow in the meantime?"

"Yeah, but you ain't gonna like it."

"I'm coming too!" Buffy proclaimed. She slapped the dirty rag onto the side of the sink and promptly rushed upstairs. "I'm going to pack some clothes for all of us," she yelled. "Tell Dean to get rid of his stinkage or he can ride on the roof!"

"She is definitely one of you," Bobby observed. "All sass and stubbornness."

Sam grimaced as he peered out of the window. "Yeah, well, let's see if I can get King Stubborn to move his ass out from under that damn car."

* * *

An hour later the three siblings were in a rundown family van with threadbare seats heading down Interstate 29 to Nebraska. Harvelle's Roadhouse was somewhere outside of Broken Bow and was going to take between four and five hours of travel to arrive (if, as Dean grumbled, the soccer mom hunk of junk even made it there).

Both Sam and Buffy eyed Dean askance as he drove. Their elder brother hadn't brought up their late father once since they'd scattered the ashes. Sam managed to let Buffy know that he'd tried repeatedly but always ran up against the classic Dean Winchester deflection mechanism.

They stopped midway because Buffy swore to sing Black Eyed Peas at the top of her lungs if Dean didn't let her use the bathroom, but other than that they arrived at the Roadhouse without incident. The brothers insisted that, since it was a bar, underage little sisters weren't allowed. She rolled her eyes and pouted, but stayed in the van while they approached (and then picked) the door.

Sam and Dean gazed about and took in the comfortably dim interior. Deep in the back they spotted a what looked like a body on a pool table. With trepidation Sam approached and poked it. "Hey, buddy?" When the hunter spotted the well maintained mullet he commented, "I'm guessing that isn't Ellen."

"So who is it?" asked Buffy.

Both brothers started, Dean going so far as to yell half an obscenity. When they saw who it was, they glared.

"What?" Buffy queried, aiming for innocence. "You left the door open."

After exchanging exasperated looks, Sam headed into the back room and Dean continued looking around the main area, Buffy following. "Uh, Dean?"

"What?" There was a fine selection of whiskeys behind the bar. If it wasn't for the fact that the owner was most likely a friend of their father's Dean would have poured himself a shot.

"There's someone else here."

Dean turned to find Buffy with her hands up. Another blonde, probably in her early twenties, had a rifle pointed at his sister's back. "I don't like guns," Buffy stated.

"Yeah?" said the stranger. "I don't like intruders."

Seeing the set of of his sister's jaw, Dean knew what she was about to do. "No, Buffy, don't—"

Buffy swiveled around and caught the rifle with both hands. She then proceeded to bend the barrel upwards, much to the gaping astonishment of her would-be assailant. "There!" the Slayer proclaimed happily before tossing the now useless firearm off to one side.

The other blonde then proceeded to throw a punch at the teenager. Buffy dodged easily and flung a kick out of her own which the newcomer barely ducked away from.

Dean made the mistake of trying to break up the now furiously engaged hand to hand battle. "Hey hey hey—" The blonde stranger parried one of Buffy's strikes then backhanded the hunter in the nose. He staggered backwards. "Sam! Need some help in here!"

Buffy had gathered the stranger into a headlock. At the same moment, Sam walked through the back door, his hands raised in surrender. An older woman had a shotgun aimed at his back. "Sorry, Dean, I can't right now. I'm a little tied up."

"Sam? Dean?" wondered the woman. "Winchester?"

"Yeah," the brothers said together.

"Buffy, I take it?" she directed at their sister.

"That's me!" she replied.

"Son of a bitch," the woman laughed.

"Mom," choked out the blonde.

"You three are John Winchester's kids," said the newcomer as she let her shotgun drop. "I'm Ellen, that's my daughter Jo. Sweetheart, do me a favor and let her go before she turns blue."

Buffy dropped Jo who sat down hard on the floor and rubbed her neck. She stared at the younger blonde, dumbfounded. "Why the heck are you so strong?"

After a quick glance at her brothers, Buffy lied, "I work out. A lot."

Dean had garnered the attention of Jo's mother. "You called our dad, said you could help. Help with what?"

"Well, the demon, of course," Ellen replied. "I heard he was closing in on it."

"What, was there an article in the Demon Hunters Quarterly that I missed?" Dean snapped. "I mean, who are you? How do you know about all this?"

"Hey, I just run a saloon. But hunters have been known to pass through now and again, including your dad a long time ago. John was like family once."

"Oh yeah? How come he never mentioned you before?"

"You'd have to ask him that."

Sam and Buffy did their best to mask how much Ellen's snippy response pained them. Dean covered it up with his rising temper. "So why exactly do we need your help?"

"Hey, don't do me any favors. Look, if you don't want my help, fine. Don't let the door smack your ass on the way out. But John wouldn't have sent you if—" Ellen caught a glimpse of Buffy biting her lip, then saw Sam turn away. "He didn't send you. He's all right, isn't he?"

"No," Sam mumbled. "No, he isn't. It was the demon, we think. It just got him before he got it, I guess."

"I'm so sorry," Ellen commiserated.

"It's okay," Dean said. "We'll be all right."

Ellen stared at him disbelievingly. "Really? I know how close you and your dad were."

"Really, lady. I'm _fine_."

"Dean," Buffy chided when she saw his fists clench.

"If you got something," Sam said quickly, "we could use all the help we can get."

"Well, we don't," Ellen replied. "But Ash does."

"Who's that?" asked Buffy.

The older woman tilted her head towards the body they'd inspected earlier. "Ash!"

With flailing arms and an inelegant snort the mullet-headed figure shot upwards. He gazed about blearily and asked, "What? Is it closin' time?"

"That's Ash," Buffy wondered flatly.

Ellen gave her a kindly smirk. "He's a genius."

The teenaged girl stared doubtfully at the young man; he was currently shaking his outdated hairdo back into its optimum shape. "Did he steal the wig from Joe Dirt?"

"No stealin' here," Ash proclaimed. "This 'do is one hundred percent natural."

Buffy gave him a tight lipped smile. "Great."

As Sam left to retrieve something from the van, Dean and Jo struck up a conversation and Ellen poured Buffy a Coke. "I thought you were in California," she said as she slid the glass over. "John said you and your mom were livin' the normal life out there."

Buffy sighed. "We _were_ , until…" She hesitated, uncertain of how far to trust the Harvelles.

"Shit hit the fan?" Ellen offered.

"Pretty much. So now here I am with the flannel duo until the end of the week."

"Well, if your brothers are anything like your father you're in for one heck of a time. How old are you now, anyways?"

"Sixteen."

Ellen chuckled. "You're just a baby. I'm surprised your momma's lettin' you go across the country huntin' with your brothers." When Buffy squirmed, the older woman lifted an eyebrow. "She _does_ know what you guys get up to?"

The young girl sipped her soda and tried to look innocent. Ellen shook her head. "That's a bad road to be going down, missy," the bar owner said as she brought out five bottles of beer. "The later your mom finds out the more hell there'll be to pay."

"Yeah, I know," Buffy sighed.

Ellen gave her a smile and reached over to pat the girl on the shoulder. "You got plenty of good family around here, kid, if things go bad. You just remember that, y'here?"

Buffy gave her a smile in return. She liked the woman. Ellen had automatically appointed herself a pseudo-aunt to the siblings, something Buffy hadn't experienced since her cousin Celia had died. Irene, Joyce's sister and Celia's mother, had cut contact after her child's sudden passing, unwilling to bear the pain brought about when she gazed upon her daughter's best friend.

It let Buffy feel better inclined towards Jo, who was doing her best, "I'm acting uninterested in you but really I want to jump your bones" impression for Dean. She was surprised to see that her normally lascivious brother so disinterested.

A few minutes later Sam returned holding a brown folder. The two brothers then dumped it in front of Ash and challenged him to make something of the nonsense they claimed was John Winchester's research. Buffy remembered peeking through the contents and couldn't fathom that it meant anything to anyone other than her father, but after spouting denials and several really long words Ash told them to give him fifty-one hours and it would all be settled.

The three siblings settled at the bar intent on having a few drinks and a meal. Ellen looked up at the wall clock and told Buffy, "Honey, five o'clock rolls around and I can't have you in here."

"We're going to find somewhere nearby," she replied. "I think."

Dean gazed doubtfully at the decrepit minivan outside. "Yeah, we better. I don't think that thing'll make it back and forth from Bobby's more than once."

They spent an hour more with the Harvelles with Jo continuing her non-flirting flirtation with Dean while helping Ellen preparing for the evening rush. The three siblings then checked into the Big 12 Motel and prepared to squabble about who got the beds.

"I'm a girl, I should get one," Buffy tried.

"What the heck is that supposed to mean?" Sam retorted.

His sister threw up her hands. "You guys are the most unchivalrous brothers I—Sam?"

The younger brother suddenly clutched his head in both hands, his face scrunched up in pain. As he let out a moan and sat heavily on the edge of one of the beds, Buffy shouted for Dean. He burst out of the bathroom, belt unbuckled and gun in hand. When he spotted Sam, he returned the weapon to the back of his jeans. "Another one?"

"Yeah," Sam groaned.

"What is it this time?"

"Guy taking out a couple of people before blowing his own head off. I don't know where. All I can remember is a logo on a bus." Sam rubbed his eyes. "It almost looked like someone told him to do it over the phone and he just… did it." He grimaced. "Can't look it up on my laptop; no wifi here."

"Maybe Ash can help. It'll cut into the fifty-one hours, but whatever. C'mon."

"Uh, hello?" asked a flummoxed Buffy. "What the hell is going on?"

The brothers exchanged puzzled looks. "We never told you?" asked Dean.

"Told me what?"

Sam sighed while Dean moved to the dresser to pocket his keys and cell phone. "I have… some kind of psychic ability," the younger brother explained. "I can see things before they happen. It's happened a couple of times and-and it's always something that has to do with the demon. And—" he added while glaring at Dean, "—they've _always_ come true."

"I'm just saying," the eldest brother commented, "it's really frigging weird."

"Huh," Buffy said in response. She took a few moments to process the information.

Sam and Dean tensed. What would their sister, the Slayer, think of her brother possibly having a demonic connection? The fact that Sam was her blood might not factor into her predisposition to punch first and ask questions later when otherworldly beings were involved. Plenty of monsters they'd met on their initial road trip bore testament to her methodology.

"No _way_ ," Buffy finally said. "You've got super powers too? That's totally awesome!"

* * *

 **Acknowledgement** : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episode "Everybody Loves a Clown" (SPN 2.01).

 **Author's Note** : Thus begins the scrambling of season two and three of Supernatural. Really, it's for a good cause.


	13. Book II: Chapter 13

(11/2/2016) Job rejection number four occurred, so I'm shamelessly pandering for good vibes! There's just not enough work for music teachers these days.

Thank you **RHatch89** , **IoSolUno** , **thedarkpokemaster** , **philly cheese dude** , and **jkmp28** for the reviews! And early Thanksgiving turkeys for all the followers and favoriters!

* * *

The logo Sam managed to sketch led Ash to a line that ran in Guthrie, Oklahoma. Nobody thought the minivan would survive such a trip. Sam and Dean discussed stealing something until Ellen overheard and gave them a blistering lecture about setting an example for their little sister. Dean rolled his eyes but Sam promised to go rent a car instead. He left out the questionable nature of the credit card they were going to use.

At the rental place they were offered first a 2006 Chevrolet Impala SS which Dean immediately turned down. Not only were the modern Impalas substantially inferior in his eyes, but he didn't need another reminder of his unfinished work back at Bobby's. They "paid" a little more for a Mitsubishi Eclipse and headed on to Guthrie.

It was well into the evening by the time they were done and the eight hour ride would see them arriving at dawn. Buffy, being small, curled up on the rather tiny back seat while Sam scooted the passenger side as far back as possible and made a valiant attempt to get comfortable. As soon as the both of them were snoring Dean happily pushed the sports car as fast as possible. He hated to admit it, but driving the thing was actually kind of fun.

As a result, they made it to Guthrie at about four in the morning, far sooner than expected. Dean checked them into a motel then proceeded to use the car horn to wake up his siblings. Neither were greatly amused.

Dean and Buffy fell into one bed and Sam the other in order to glean a few more hours of rest. When they woke up, Sam dutifully pulled out his computer and began to do research on the town's citizens.

"That's him," he announced. "Dr. Jennings. Local OB/GYN."

"Okay," Dean said. "Now what?"

"I have a hunch. Give me a second."

While Sam dug more into the Guthrie population, Dean banged on the bathroom door. "It's been thirty minutes!" he yelled. "Some of us have to pee!"

"Go use a tree if you're that desperate," Buffy called back.

"The hell she doing in there anyways?" Dean grumbled as he sat on their bed. Out of boredom he began flipping through the television channels, finally settling on a rerun of Dr. Sexy, MD.

Ten minutes after that, Buffy emerged with her face and hair done up for the day. She looked disbelievingly back and forth between Dean and the television. "Uh, what are you watching?"

"Nothing," he replied quickly. He hit the power button on the remote and stood up to use the now empty facilities.

Buffy chose to indulge in Dean's pretenses and peeped over Sam's shoulder. "Why are you looking at things from your birth year?"

"Hunch," he repeated. "There," he stated, satisfied. He pointed to an article from the Guthrie News Leader, the local paper.

"'Local Woman Killed in House Fire.' What? I still don't get it."

Dean exited the bathroom as Sam read part of the article out loud. "Betty Gallagher was killed in a house fire yesterday that appears to have been started by faulty wiring in their nursery. Her husband, Kyle, and adopted son, Andrew, fortunately escaped before the flames consumed the entire home."

"Sam," Dean said warily.

"The guy that makes the doctor kill himself; he's got to be this Andrew Gallagher."

"How the hell do you know for sure?"

"Every premonition I've had, if they're not about the demon they're about the other kids the demon visited. Like Max Miller, remember him?"

"Who?" asked Buffy.

"This psycho," explained Dean. "Sam had this dream… psychic thing… whatever of some dude getting killed. We get there and this Max, he's taking revenge on his shithole parents by moving things with his brain."

"The thing is," Sam added, "his mom died exactly like ours did, exactly six months after his birthday just like me. Just like this Andrew Gallagher."

"That's… weird," Buffy responded. "So is this some kind of six-month-old baby, mommy-killing serial killer demon?"

"That's just it. Both of us had psychic powers, and it looks like this Andrew guy might have them too. I think he's using them to tell that doctor to kill himself."

"Come on," Dean snorted. "We don't even know if it _is_ this guy."

"Only one way to find out," Sam told his brother determinedly.

* * *

Since Dr. Jennings was an OB/GYN, they sent Buffy to his office under the pretense that she was searching for a new physician. Perturbed by the errand, Buffy started to ask Dean if she should go ahead and get an exam. She went into specifics as to what that would entail beginning with "stirrups" and "speculum." After several sentences passed, during which Dean couldn't do anything other than gape, the eldest sibling quite maturely put his fingers in his ears and sang "Hotel California" at the top of his lungs while walking out the door.

The brothers suited up, decided to pose as lawyers representing Andrew Gallagher's imaginary wealthy late aunt, and headed for the only definitive address of his they could find: the diner he had once worked at. While Buffy was following the doctor on his lunch break stroll, Sam and Dean met a waitress who had been Andrew's friend and an obsequious busboy that appeared to hold the man in very high regard.

They were directed to Orchard Street and to a van with a somewhat lewd mural painted on the side. Dean drove their rental car over and parked across the road. Their sister called Sam's phone as they were trying not to stare. "Bloodhound Buffy, reporting in."

"Where are you?"

"Walking. You know Dr. Jennings' office has a salt water fish tank? It has Nemo and Dory and everything."

Slightly exasperated, Sam asked, "The doctor, Buffy?"

"Oh. Right in front of me. Well, not _right_ in front of me, but, like, I can see him."

"Keep on him, okay?"

"Sure. Oh, he's shaking hands with a guy that's walking outdoors in his pajamas. And ew."

"What?"

"There's the ugliest van _ever_ across the street. I think there's, like, a half naked barbarian woman riding a polar beer." The brothers were then startled when Buffy opened the passenger side door and told Sam, "Scoot!"

The younger brother stood up and let his sister into the back seat. "Buffy thinks the van's ugly."

"What?" Dean exclaimed. "No freaking way. That thing is sweet."

"You are so weird," Buffy commented. She pointed to a middle-aged black man. "That's the doc."

"Okay," said Sam as he backed away and shut the door. "I'm going to follow him."

"We'll stick with Andy," Dean replied as the questionably painted van began pulling away.

Sam nodded at them and proceeded to tail Dr. Jennings. As Dean turned the key, Buffy maneuvered herself into the front passenger seat. "I'm starving," she announced. "Can we go for pizza after?"

"Sounds good to me."

They drove in companionable silence for a few miles, doing their best to keep at least two cars between them and Andrew's van. The town was small, however, and eventually they ended up on a road with no one on it other than themselves. Andrew's van came to a halt and the pajama-wearing owner popped out and strolled over. "Hey," he said amiably.

"Hey, hey," Dean replied.

"Hi!" Buffy added, wiggling her fingers.

"This is a nice ride," Andrew complimented. "This year's model, right?"

"I think so," said Dean. "Handles like a dream on those sharp turns. Too bad it's only a rental."

"Really? Can I have it?"

"Sure." Buffy watched, dumbfounded, as her brother got out of the car and handed over the keys.

"You should get out, too," Andrew told her.

"Uh, why?"

"Well, because I said so."

For a moment, Buffy inexplicably found herself struggling to decide what to do next. Her hand shook as she involuntarily opened the door. She then half-stepped, half-fell out of the car as her feet and her brain argued about what to do.

Dean helped Buffy to her feet as Andrew drove off. The two of them stared at their disappearing rental vehicle, nonplussed, until it had disappeared out of sight. "Why did I just do that?" Dean wondered.

"I dunno," Buffy replied with a shrug. She rubbed her temples. "Why does my head hurt?"

"Shit!" her brother cursed. "That dude full on Obi-Wanned me!" He pulled out his phone and called Sam on speakerphone. "Hey, let me know if you see—" Tires screeching to a halt on asphalt blared through the phone. Cries of dismay quickly followed. "What was that? Dean asked urgently. "Sammy?"

"Oh God," their brother whispered. "Come downtown. I'll meet you in front of the hardware store." He hung up.

"Are we taking the perverted van?" Buffy asked. "Since, you know, Obi Wan left his X-Wing."

Dean sighed and regretfully declined. "Maybe next time. We better start walking."

* * *

They found Sam sitting dejectedly on the steps in front of a place advertising guns and sporting goods. "I stopped him from going inside," he mumbled. "I thought he was okay, that he was past it. Then he just… I should have stayed with him."

Buffy sat next to him and gave him a comforting hug. "It's okay. If it makes you feel better, Dean just gave killer-mind-guy our car."

"What?"

"Dude," Dean cried, "he told me to give it to him and I did it! I have no idea what the fuck happened."

"He did it to me, too," added Buffy, "but it was, like, super weird. Like my brain was saying 'yes' and my feet were saying 'no.'"

"Maybe it's the Slayer thing," Sam offered.

"Meh. So what now?"

"I don't know." Sam hung his head despondently.

Dean stared at his brother, puzzled. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing."

"You have poop-face," observed Buffy.

Sam lifted his head up to blink at his sister. "Excuse me?"

"Poop-face! Like something poopy is going on so it's showing up on your face."

"I thought she meant you looked constipated," said Dean. "Although that's not far off the mark either."

Sam sighed. "This Andrew Gallagher, he's the second guy like this we've found. Demon came to them when they were kids, now they're killing people."

"We don't know what Andrew Gallagher is, all right? We don't even know for sure it _was_ him that did this."

"My visions haven't been wrong yet."

"Really?" Buffy asked eagerly. "Can you see if Dean will ever have an actual relationship? Because frankly I think it's sort of a lost cause and—"

"My point is," Sam cut in loudly. "I'm one of them."

"No, you're not," Dean stated firmly.

"Dean, the demon said he had plans for me and children like me."

"What plans?" asked Buffy.

"I don't know, plans! Maybe he's getting together a bunch of psychic freaks, like maybe we're all supposed to be—"

"Killers?"

"Yeah."

"So the demon wants you out there killing with your minds, is that it?" Dean asked.

"Doesn't it seem like it?"

Sam's brother and sister looked at one another. After a few moments, Buffy started giggling derisively, and Dean wiped a hand down his face in order to stifle his own mirth. "What?" Sam snapped.

"You're not a murderer, Sam," Dean told him. "You don't have it in your bones."

"No? Last I checked, I kill all kinds of things."

"Oh my God," Buffy snorted. "Don't you remember _carrying_ spiders out of the house instead of _squishing_ them?"

"That was different! They weren't doing any harm."

"Yeah? And there's your reason," Dean said definitively. "The things you kill, _we_ kill, they deserve it."

"I guess," Sam muttered, obviously unconvinced.

"Well the doctor is a pancake," Buffy stated. "Now what do we do?"

"Find the fricking car," grumbled Dean. "Then go back to watching Andy's ride. Thing ain't exactly subtle."

* * *

The Eclipse was only a few blocks away, thankfully, with the keys left plopped onto the driver's seat. Dean couldn't imagine how traumatizing it would have been if he'd been driving the Impala.

After Sam kicked Buffy out of the passenger seat (claiming, quite truthfully, that there was no way he could fit in the back), they headed back to where they had left Andrew Gallagher's van. It was, surprisingly, still in the same spot.

They headed for the back doors. Sam jiggled the handles and was startled when they fell open. The three siblings stared at the insides.

Sam was appalled.

Buffy was bemused.

Dean was impressed.

It was an homage to the 1970s, complete with disco ball. The back seats had been laid flat and made even, then covered completely with a variety of fake fur pelts. A bead curtain separated the decor from the front seats. The windows and walls had been blackened, the exception being a roaring tiger painted on the driver's side. Several thick paperbacks were strewn about whose titles caught Sam's eye. "Hegel, Kant, Wittgenstein?" he listed as he picked them up. "That's some pretty heavy reading."

"This is _magnificent_ ," Dean breathed. "I like the tiger."

"Why does it smell like a skunk exploded?" asked Buffy.

Her eldest brother pointed at the large, cylindrical glass object lying at a careful angle against the passenger seat. "Probably because of Moby Dick's bong."

"His _dong?_ Ew! Why would he have—"

" _Bong_. Weed."

"Oh. That makes more sense."

Dean turned to Sam. "Not exactly a serial killer's lair. There's no clown paintings on the walls, or scissors stuck in victims' photos. Clowns would have done it for you, right Sammy?"

"Shut up," Sam replied. "Dean, you had O.J. convicted before he got out of his white Bronco and you have doubts about this?"

"He just doesn't seem like the stone-cold killer type, that's all. And O.J. was guilty."

"How did orange juice drive a car?" Buffy wondered. She blinked when both her brothers peered down at her.

"Sometimes you're just way too blonde," Dean muttered as he shut the doors. The trio then headed back to their own car.

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"If I gotta explain it then I've proved my point."

"Yeah, well… at least I don't think the porno van is cool."

Astonished, Dean whirled around. "What? Why do you know what… _that_ even is?

Peeved, Buffy glared back. "One, I'm sixteen. I know what sex is. Two, I traveled with your horny butt for weeks. I swear, you must have had, like, every STD at least once."

Sam gave Dean a wry smile when the elder brother silently implored him for help. "Dude. Waitress in Tampa. Doctor. Penicillin."

With a dejected slump to his shoulders, Dean gave a half-hearted, "Shut up," and unlocked the car doors.

* * *

One quick pizza run later and they were back to staking out the "Porno Van." As Dean and his sister were bickering about who should get the last slice, Sam postulated, "What I don't get is the motive. I mean, the doctor was squeaky clean, why would Andy waste him?"

"If it _is_ Andy," Dean answered. "Come on," he told Buffy, "I'm bigger."

"I'm smaller," she retorted. "And younger. And prettier."

"The doctor was mind-controlled in front of a bus," Sam snapped. "Andy just happens to have the power of mind control. You do the math."

"I just don't think the guy's got it in him, that's all," Dean stated. Buffy then won the argument by snatching the pizza slice and licking it from crust to tip. "Gross. All yours."

"Yay!" Buffy cheered before tucking in.

"Well, how the hell would you know?" Sam asked, ignoring the food squabble. "I mean, why are you bending over backwards defending him?"

"'Cause you're not right about this," his brother said while giving their sister a grumpy glare. She then made a point to vocalize the deliciousness of her last few bites.

"Yum, yum, yu— _gah_!"

With a crack the man in question had appeared and slammed his hands on the top of the car. "Hey! You think I haven't seen you guys? Why are you following me?"

"Well, we're lawyers," Sam tried. "See, a relative of yours has passed aw—"

"Tell the truth!" Andy demanded, his voice reverberating strangely in the confined space.

"That's what I'm—"

"We hunt demons," Dean interjected.

Warily, Andy stepped back. "What?"

"What?" Buffy echoed as she and Sam stared at their brother, bemused.

"Dean!" Sam barked.

"Demons and spirits," Dean continued amicably. "Things your worst nightmares wouldn't even touch. Sam here, he's my brother. Back there is Buffy. She's the Slayer."

Together, his siblings cried, "Dean, shut up!"

"I'm trying," he whimpered. He then turned back to Andy. "Sam's psychic. Kind of like you. Well, not really like you, but see he thinks you're a murderer, and he's afraid that he's going to become one himself 'cause you're all part of something that's terrible. And I hope to hell that he's wrong, but I'm starting to get a little scared that he might be right. Oh, and she has super powers. Could probably tear your arms out without breaking a sweat."

Completely unnerved, Andy told him, "Okay, you know what? Just leave me alone."

"Okay," agreed Dean, smiling agreeably. His brother and sister continued to gape at him. Andy began to walk to his van, casting leery glances back to the Eclipse, as Dean clutched his head in his hands and moaned in pain.

Sam jumped out of the car, Buffy following. Panicked, Andy yelled, "What are you doing? Look, I said leave me alone. All right?" His hands flapped as he made shooing motions to the two of them. "Get out of here, just start driving and never stop."

"Doesn't seem to work on us, Andy," Sam countered. He suddenly realized Buffy had stopped, her face scrunched up in concentration and her fists clenched to her sides. "Well, mostly doesn't work on her. But it's not doing anything to me." Sam continued to advance. "You can make people do things, can't you? You can tell them what to think."

As distracted as he was by the looming lunatic Andy failed to realize how far his robe's sash had fallen. He stepped on one trailing end and sat down hard on the asphalt. "Y-Y-You're crazy! Get away from me!"

Sam crouched in front of him and calmly asked, "It all started about a year ago, didn't it? After you turned twenty-two. Little stuff at first, and then you got better at controlling it."

"How do you know all this?" Andy wondered, confusion momentarily pushing away his fear.

"Because the same thing happened to me, Andy. My mom died in a fire, too. I have abilities. You see, we're connected, you and me. So now," Sam continued, his tone turning harsh, "why did you tell the doctor to walk in front of a bus?"

He was surprised to see the genuine confusion on Andy's face. Dean's continued insistence that this wasn't their murderer began to have more merit. As a conciliatory gesture Sam reached a hand out to help the man to his feet. That was when a vision took him, the agony whiting out his sight, and he crumpled over with a cry.

Rather than take the opportunity to escape, Andy rose to one knee and began to gently shake Sam on the shoulder. "Hey, buddy? You okay?"

Now free from Andy's psychic restraints, Buffy rushed over to kneel beside her brother. After a moment more to clear his head, Dean opened the driver's side door and followed suit just as their brother bellowed in pain. "Sammy?" he said urgently. "What is it?"

"Look, I didn't do anything to him!" Andy cried.

Sam let out a few gasps before opening his eyes. "A woman," he groaned, "burning alive. Gas station. She's going to kill herself. Another cell phone trigger."

"What does he mean, going to?" asked a flummoxed Andy. "What is he—What is—"

"Shut up!" Dean shouted.

The group went still as a fire engine wailed past them. After getting a silent affirmation from his siblings, Dean stood up and raced after it.

Andy also rose to his feet and made to follow. He was forced to a halt when Buffy's hand was planted firmly on his chest. "Nuh-uh," she declared. "You're staying here."

"We'll make sure you don't hurt that woman," Sam growled as he clambered upright.

"I don't want to hurt anybody," refuted Andy. He tried to move past the tiny blonde girl and was shocked when she grabbed two fistfuls of his robe and glared. No amount of struggling freed him.

" _Stay_ ," Buffy commanded as she let him go. Andy sat promptly back down on the road, cross-legged.

Several minutes of uncomfortable silence ensued as they waited for Dean to report back. Andy took the time to ogle the attractive young lady with the incredibly strong grip. "So," he attempted, "Buffy, wasn't it?"

Wary, she replied, "Yeah."

"Staying in town for a while?"

"I dunno."

"You know, I've got a really sweet setup in my van."

"Dude," Sam said, annoyed, "she's sixteen."

"Oklahoma's age of consent," Andy reported.

"Oh, ew," Buffy complained. She then glowered down at Andy.

"Can't blame a guy for trying."

"Yeah? Try again and I'll rip off one of your legs and beat your head in with it."

Andy looked at Sam. "Can she do that?"

"Probably."

"Oh." Chagrined, Andy sighed. "Ah well."

* * *

The woman had already doused herself in gasoline and been immolated by the time Dean arrived. With Andy in their custody and the time frame of the suicide there was no possible way that he could have placed the call.

Sam wasn't convinced of Andy's _complete_ innocence, but they allowed him to tag along for the remainder of their investigation. After hearing that the psychic had flirted with Buffy, Dean handed Sam the keys, jammed the passenger side seat forward, and squeezed himself into the back. Andy was left to squash himself in the now considerably shrunken front seat.

He ended up being an invaluable asset. With Andy's help they were allowed into the public records office after hours. They discovered that the murdered doctor had overseen his delivery and the woman had been his birth mother. The most shocking news was that Andy had a fraternal twin: Ansem Weems, the obsessed busboy from the diner.

The rest of the night proceeded in a series of terrifying events. They cornered Andy's twin at the Guthrie City Lake Dam with the waitress that had previously helped Sam and Dean. It didn't take long for them to discover that Ansem was considerably more well-versed in the use of his powers than his twin. The waitress ended up perched on the bridge railing after being forced to beat Sam over the head with a tree branch, Buffy was coerced into Ansem's car with the implication that an unsavory fate awaited her, and Dean was forced to point his own rifle under his chin. In the end, Andrew Gallagher saved them by picking up Sam's abandoned handgun and shooting his brother in the back.

After Andy convinced the authorities (psychically) that Ansem had killed himself, the siblings left Guthrie. They told the man to behave or they'd be back to take care of _him_. Sam was pensive and silent nearly the entire time.

They stopped around noon at a rest stop along Highway 183 in order to stretch their legs. Sam stared off in the distance and leaned against the hood of the car while Buffy and Dean had a friendly argument over what was more annoying: the endless drone of the cicadas or the oppressive heat.

As they were talking, the carcass of one particularly large insect fell out of a tree and landed on Dean's head. Their debate came to an abrupt halt as he came pelting to the car shouting vulgarities and madly swiping his hands through his hair. Buffy came soon after, laughing hysterically.

"Fucking bugs!" Dean shouted as he threw a rock at the offending tree. He then jabbed a finger at his sister. "The cicadas win."

Buffy hooted through the last of her mirth. "Okay, okay." She aimed her gaze at her other brother. "What's wrong, Broody McBroodyface?"

"Andy ended up being a killer anyways," Sam replied.

"No, he's a hero," Dean refuted. "He saved our lives."

"Bottom line is that he wasted somebody. He was pushed into it, sure, but there's blood on his hands. Max Millar was pushed by his abusive parents, I got pushed by Jessica's murder." Sam sighed. "I think that's yellow-eyes' plan: pushing us until he finds the right thing to make us break."

"Bullshit. We don't know what he wants, okay? Stop worrying about it."

Sam peered at his brother. "You know, I heard you before, Dean, when Andy made you tell the truth. You're just as scared of this as I am."

"That was mind control! I mean, it's like being roofied, man, that doesn't count."

"Why would you know what that feels like?" Buffy asked him suspiciously.

"You, shut it," Dean hurled back. He then turned his attention back to Sam. "No. I'm calling do-over."

"What are you, seven?"

"He wishes he was that old," Buffy quipped.

Dean wiped a hand down his face. "Look, we've just gotta keep doing what we're doing, find that evil son of a bitch and kill it. That's it." With that final statement, the eldest brother unlocked the car and sat back into the driver's seat. Sam and Buffy followed.

As they were getting back onto the highway, Buffy suddenly asked, "Why didn't Andy's power really affect me all the way?"

"Like I said, maybe because you're the Slayer?" Sam offered.

"Maybe." She frowned. "I don't like it."

"What, you'd rather be telling some stranger all your secrets like Dean did?"

"Hey!" objected their brother.

"No," Buffy said. "But it's just weird. I better tell Giles."

Further speculation was interrupted by the ring of Sam's phone. He held a brief conversation then informed his siblings, "It's Ash. He's got something for us."

"Back to the Roadhouse, then," Dean declared.

* * *

 **Acknowledgement** : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episode "Simon Said" (SPN 2.05).

 **Author's Note** : The exact nature of the doctor killed by Ansem Weems was never specifically said, but seeing as how he did the birthing and the adoption I'm going on a hunch. Also, Andrew Gallagher's parents had no names so I gave them some nice ones.

Also, I was super surprised to find that the dam Ansem was at actually exists in Guthrie and wasn't just some conveniently placed plot location. That was neato.


	14. Book II: Chapter 14

(11/4/2016) I'm finding writing this to be cathartic. Also, after getting some peer reviews on a paper I realized that my literary writing is bleeding into my scholarly writing. Apparently I have an "interesting way with words."

Fixed a plot hole regarding how much exactly they knew about Azazel's involvement with John's deal, which was supposed to be not much. Oopsies.

Thank you **philly cheese dude** , **IoSolUno** , **RHatch89** , **thedarkpokemaster** , and **missmeow1968** for the reviews! And all you favoriters and followers get leftover Halloween candy!

* * *

The Roadhouse was packed by the time they had ensured both that their beaten down soccer mom van was still operational and the rental car had been taken care of. Being underage, Buffy was sent to hang out in Jo and Ellen's little setup in back of the bar. It turned out that Ash also had his own room, but when he answered the door naked and intoxicated they decided to ask him about his discoveries later.

Sam and Dean spent the hours before closing having a few drinks and chatting with their fellow hunters. Nobody had anything really interesting of note other than the sudden increase in jobs involving demonic possession. The brothers pretended ignorance regarding the phenomenon and deflected any requests to team up on a hunt.

Buffy called Giles to tell him what happened in Guthrie. He made a lot of what she privately called "proper English noises" to cover his confusion and promised to call her back if he found anything. She then spent a few hours texting Angel about everything that had transpired and exchanged the requisite blandishments over how much they missed one another.

She also took the rare period of solitude to pause her masquerade. Cheerfulness and ditziness were beautiful things to misdirect her brothers, but they were tremendously strenuous to maintain. Buffy lay back in Jo's plump bed (the woman's feminine sheets incongruent with the dark, aged wooden panels that made up the walls) and let misery wash over her.

In between texts to her vampiric boyfriend, Buffy's thoughts shuffled through the harrying events of the past few months. Her "murder" at the hands of the Master. Her father's death. Her inexplicable partial immunity to Andrew Gallagher's powers. Her brother revealing that he, too, had powers of unknown origins. And the fact that everything was tied into the enigmatic machinations of the yellow-eyed demon.

Buffy had put on the dumb blonde act after realizing that neither of her brothers were handling their father's death very well. Sam talked a little, but only to say that it was the demon's fault. He diverted any deeper conversation, and Buffy had the feeling that he was deeply contrite over the fierce divide with John Winchester that would never be repaired.

Dean… well. The more Dean remained silent, the more she knew there was something deeply wrong. Buffy recalled that when Dean had gotten too old for the playground he and his father would sit somewhere and talk while she and Sam cavorted. Knowing now what she did about their secret occupation, the two had probably been discussing various monster fighting tactics. Their closeness was apparent even then, with Dean the heir apparent to John's legacy while she and Sam were the doted upon younger children. Therefore the fact that the oldest of the three siblings hadn't made any overt show of mourning was troubling.

So Buffy had decided in those first few days at Bobby's to be strong for the three of them. The cleaning she used as an excuse to practice it and by the time they first headed for the Roadhouse she had perfected it. If they weren't going to acknowledge their grief then she would keep hers to herself.

But now she was alone. The tears welled up unbidden and she let them flow. She bent over and stifled her screams and cries with Jo's pillow. Once the bulk of the paroxysm had passed, Buffy hiccuped through a few more sobs before leaning against the headboard, exhausted. That was, unfortunately, the moment that Jo decided to check in on her.

"Hey, Buffy? You hungry—oh." The young woman shut the door and sat on the edge of the bed. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Buffy mumbled.

"Yeah, and you smeared makeup all over my pillow because you were trying to be cute."

Buffy looked down at the colorful mess her tears had made. "Oh. Sorry." She sighed. "It's just… everything, you know?"

"Uh, not really. Well, sort of. My dad died, too."

"Really?"

"I was young, though, eight. He was a hunter and, well, died like hunters do."

A chill went through Buffy at the thought of her brothers dying before her. The consternation must have shown on her face; Jo suddenly began waving her hands and said, "Oh, no no no! I'm sure Sam and Dean—I mean, John got to a pretty old age—"

"It's okay, Jo," Buffy told her with a smile. "I'm just being, I dunno, a worried little sister." She sniffed. "It's a race to see who dies first, I guess."

"Because you go out hunting with those guys?" Jo didn't bother waiting for an answer before telling her, "Wait. Just wait. I'll be right back."

Bemused, Buffy watched the older girl hurry from the room. She took the time Jo was gone to try and rub out the stains she'd made on the pillow. Mostly they just ended up smeared about. Flipping the pillow over, however, did a nice job of hiding her faux pas.

Jo returned several minutes later with a bottle of beer and a glass of Coke. She handed the latter to Buffy with a wink. "Don't tell your bros, but there's rum in that."

Buffy took a sip and coughed. "Thanks?"

Jo wrenched the top off of her own drink and said, "Hey, I think you need it." The two sat in companionable silence for a bit. Then Jo broached her query again. "So why is it you think you're dying sooner rather than later?"

Giles had tried to instill in her the sense that secrecy was of the utmost importance, but Buffy didn't think that it would matter much where the Harvelles were concerned; Sam and Dean, as paranoid as they were, trusted them and so their sister felt she could do the same. Buffy laid out the basics of being the Slayer as she and Jo drained their drinks, then, a tad bit inebriated, launched into the battle that had culminated in her almost-death.

"So you see," Buffy concluded, "Slayers don't tend to live too long. Shelf life of an unpeeled banana when I want it to be a Twinkie."

"Wow," Jo said, her eyes wide. "That… sucks."

"Right?"

"Okay, let's make a pact." The older girl held out a crooked pinky. "I'm thinking that you got your friends out there in Sunnydale, but you don't got a girl who _really_ knows what kind of hell monsters and demons raise. You feel free to give me a call if you need talking to and I promise to do the same."

Beaming, Buffy locked her own digit in Jo's. "To fatherless blondes!"

"May we live until our hair turns gray!" The two girls clinked their drinks together and quaffed what was remaining.

They had an hour more to go until the last of the stragglers headed out the door so Jo and Buffy stayed where they were, gossiping. The two of them ended up having more similarities than just their hair color. They both loved makeup (though Jo's tastes ran to more subtle shades than Buffy's preferences), tall men, and had over-protective mothers. Their musical tastes were vastly different, however, and they teased each other over it. All in all, despite the altercation that had been their first encounter, the two of them found plenty of common ground and, in the end, were happy to call each other a friend.

The two were in the middle of poring over Buffy's cell phone pictures when Sam knocked on the door. "Uh, hey," he stammered.

Buffy was alarmed at her brother's pallor. "What happened?"

"There's a problem. Come on, it's just us out there."

The two girls followed Sam to join Dean, Ellen, and Ash out in the now empty Roadhouse. Dean was sipping at a beer, despondent, while Ash was typing furiously on his homemade laptop. Ellen was making a half-hearted attempt to wipe down the bar.

Jo immediately headed for her mother. She grabbed a spare rag and joined in on the cleaning. Buffy plopped down beside her brother and asked, "So?"

"Ash found a way to track the demon," Dean responded.

"And yet we're all depressed."

Sam sat down beside his sister. "That's not the problem; that came from dad's notes. It's that Dean had the idea to have him look into, you know, more kids like… like me. And Andrew Gallagher."

"Six month old baby's birthday with pyrotechnics, right?"

"Except I found out that there was no fire at Ansem Weem's house. He breaks the pattern."

"Which means we're screwed," Dean grumbled.

"But like I said," Ellen said firmly, "we're doing this together. So we hear of any more of them psychics out there we'll let you know. And you, sweetheart," she told Buffy, "you are going to make sure you're being careful back on that Hellmouth, y'hear?"

"Well," Buffy drawled. "I'll try. But those pesky vampires, they just don't know how to give a girl her space."

"Yeah, well, these two let slip that you're some kind of super powered monster killer, but that don't mean you're invulnerable."

Jo and Buffy exchanged glances. "I know," Buffy told Ellen.

"C'mon," Dean ordered as he picked his sister up off her stool by the back of her shirt. "We need to get going."

"What? Why?"

"I got work to do and you need to be heading back home soon."

"Ugh, fine. Can I drive?"

"Yeah… no."

The trio made their final goodbyes and headed for the van. Buffy and Jo reiterated their promise to one another and Ellen gave all of them farewell hugs. Then they were on the road back to Bobby's, Dean quietly seething with rage and remorse, Sam pushing down his guilt and fear, and Buffy trying not to agonize how fate had slated her for an early, violent death.

They joked. They smiled. They laughed and bickered with each other. And behind each poorly built wall lay an explosion straining for release.

* * *

Dean's would crack first.

They arrived at Bobby's in the small hours of the morning and went straight to bed. However, while Sam and Buffy slept for several hours, Dean was up in less than two and went straight back to the Impala.

His brother and sister peered at him through a second floor window. "He keeps putting on a front," Sam murmured, "but there's no way he's okay."

"Is there even anything we can do?" Buffy asked. "I mean, you know how Dean is."

"Yeah, but the longer this goes on the worse it'll be. I say we go out and just… you know… say something."

"Okay, but if he pulls a gun I'm using your overgrown butt for a shield."

They headed downstairs. Bobby was standing by the open door, his face grim. "You two're going out there?" When they nodded, he shook his head. "Well, good luck. You're gonna need it."

Buffy and Sam marched out, their spines stiff, fairly certain that this was what it felt like to be marched out to the gallows. They found Dean underneath the car hammering something on the chassis. He slid out on his creeper and lifted his eyebrows at them. "What?"

"We need to talk," Sam said.

The eldest sibling stood up and began wiping grease from his fingers with a nearby rag. "About?"

"You! Dad's funeral was almost a week ago and you haven't mentioned him once."

"You know what? You're right. Come here. I'm gonna lay my head gently on your shoulder. Maybe we can cry, hug, and maybe even slow dance." Dean held out his arms and Sam took a step back.

"Don't patronize me, Dean. Dad is dead, the Colt is gone, and it seems pretty damn likely that the demon is behind all of this. And you're acting like nothing happened!"

"And?"

"Aren't you angry?" asked Buffy. "Sad? Something? Anything! I saw you and Jo. She basically threw herself at you and you did nothing. You're not right."

"Revenge," Sam added. "Don't you at least want revenge?"

"Sounds good," Dean replied, slapping the rag back onto the rusty frame it had been sitting on. "Either of you got any leads on where the demon is? You know, Ash might finally find it and we can—oh. No, wait, like you said: the Colt's gone. We've got jack shit, okay? So you know the only thing I _can_ do? I can work on the car."

Dean picked up his hammer, intent on lying back down on his trolley. His sister, however, stepped forward and kicked the rolling device several feet away. "No! You're going to say something, anything! Something that's not just, 'My name is Dean and I'm okay and leave me alone.'"

"Fine!" Dean snapped. "I'm _not_ okay, but neither are _you_." He pointed the hammer at Sam. "There's something messing you up more than just that crap with Ansem and Andrew." The tool then went to Buffy. "And _you've_ been hiding whatever it is ever since all that crap with the Master. Don't be raggin' on me when you two hypocrites haven't said shit!" Dean threw the hammer down with a clang and began walking towards his wayward creeper.

"Fine."

Dean stopped in his tracks and Buffy blinked. Sam shrugged. "I'm sorry that the last time I was with dad I tried to pick a fight. I'm sorry that I spent most of my life angry at him. I mean, for all I know he died thinking that I hate him. So you're right. I feel really, really fucked up." He drew in a shaky sigh. "I miss him, man. And I feel guilty as hell. And now… now I've got this thing hanging over me; that yellow-eyes has something horrible planned and I'm involved. So you're right. I'm not fine. Not at all."

A few tears escaped Sam's eyes despite his efforts and he turned his head away. Buffy's head dropped and the three of them stood in uncomfortable silence. After a few moments of twisting her fingers and steeling herself, the youngest sibling finally whispered, "I died."

Sam looked downwards at her. "What?"

"I _died_ ," she repeated, her head still hung. "The Master _killed_ me. I'm _sixteen_." She lifted her eyes, the fury and despair behind them startling her brothers. "Somewhere there's someone, _something_ , that decided _I_ got to be the Slayer; that I don't get to live a normal life. I don't get to spend Friday nights out with my friends because I have to patrol and I can't have a normal boyfriend because they'd freak when they find out what's really out there. I've never even had sex!"

"Uh," a now deeply awkward Dean mumbled. "Too much information."

Buffy ignored him. "Then–Then I find out my own father knew about all of these monsters and I thought, oh! I finally have something important, something _real_ that I can share with you all and-and-and then he's just… dead." Her eyes were bright and wet. "My daddy is dead." She heaved in a sob. "I didn't even get to say goodbye."

"None of us did, Buffy," Sam said gently. "He just… went."

"Because of me," Dean admitted harshly.

His brother and sister looked at him, appalled. "What are you talking about?" asked Buffy.

"Me. It's my fault he's gone." When they continued to stare at him, baffled, he explained, "Doesn't take a genius to figure it out. Back at the hospital, I made a full recovery. It was a miracle. And five minutes later dad's dead and the Colt's gone."

"Dean, come on," Sam said uneasily.

The eldest of them continued as if he hadn't heard the plea. "I don't know how the demon was involved. I don't know how the whole thing went down exactly. But dad's dead because of _me_. And that much I do know." Dean drew in a shuddering breath. "You guys and dad, you were the most important people in my life. And now…" He looked from his brother to his sister, the tears running heedless down his cheeks. "I never should've come back. It wasn't natural. And now look what's come of it. I was dead and I should have _stayed_ dead. So there. _That's_ what I'm feeling." Dean rubbed an eye with the heel of his hand and mumbled, "We done?"

Nobody moved, save to sniffle or shuffle feet. "I don't feel much better," Buffy said finally.

"Yeah," Sam muttered. He sighed and stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets. "We'll let you get back to work," he told Dean. Then to Buffy he said, "I better get your flight booked."

Apprehensive, the youngest sibling lay her hand on her elder brother's arm. "Come in for lunch?"

Dean turned away and pretended to be engrossed in rubbing away a spot of dirt on the Impala. "Sure."

Buffy got on her tiptoes and gave him a kiss on the cheek before she and Sam headed for the house. Bobby was waiting for them on the steps. "You guys gonna be all right?"

"Eventually," Buffy replied. She was about to ask where he kept the sandwich supplies when the sound of shattering glass echoed around the junkyard. Buffy immediately turned to go investigate but stopped at the presence of a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"It's Dean," Sam said, swallowing the aching lump in his throat. "Just leave him be." Hard, low clangs began coming one after the other. The rest of them wondered which of the rusted heaps were now bearing the brunt of Dean's rage.

* * *

Buffy's flight back to California wouldn't leave until mid-afternoon so the three siblings stowed their heartache in order to have a peaceful goodbye lunch with Bobby. The elder hunter was surprised when Dean asked if he had another trunk lid lying about. "I thought you already fixed that."

"Did," Dean replied through a mouthful of bread, ham, and fixings. "Got broke again."

Which meant that the vehicle that had suffered his wrath was his own beloved Impala.

The others didn't bother vocalizing this revelation, but continued eating and drinking. Slowly, with Bobby's ornery commentary helping, the three began to slide back into cheerier moods, only this time there was more truth to their smiles and it was far less of a strain to find a reason to laugh.

Eventually the critical hour arrived and the siblings once again borrowed the questionable minivan to head to the airport. Buffy and Sam spent most of the trip ribbing Dean over his aviophobia and when it came to say their farewells there were only promises, not tears.

Sam and Dean drove the derelict to an area that offered a prime, secluded view of the planes taking off and took a moment to speculate as to which one contained their little sister.

"You think she'll be okay?" Sam asked.

"Hell no," snorted Dean. "Dude, they call it a Hellmouth for a reason."

"At least she's got Giles and those friends of hers."

"Better than nothing, I suppose."

Sam waited for a Boeing 747 to pass and began to ask, "Are you–"

"I swear to God if you ask me that question one more time I will shoot you in the knee."

"Okay, okay, fine. I was thinking maybe we'll wait until you're done with the Impala before we take on another hunt."

"Why? I'm starting to get attached to ol' Betsy here."

"Dude, she smells like mold."

"It's all part of her charm." Dean fondly patted the hood of the car and the license plate clanged to the ground. "Yeah, okay. I'll get my Baby up and running before we head on out."

"Want to work our way west? Check in on Buffy after the school year starts?"

"Yeah, sure, why not. It's not as if she could get into _that_ much trouble before Christmas."

The two brothers looked at one another, cringing, neither believing the sentiment. Without further word they entered the minivan and drove off.

* * *

 **Acknowledgement** : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episodes "Everybody Loves a Clown" (SPN 2.01) and "Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things" (SPN 2.04).

 **Author's Note** : The Supernatural Wiki has a discrepancy regarding Jo's dad's death. On Jo's page it says he died when she was 8, on his it says he died when she was 4. Way to handle continuity guys.


	15. Book II: Chapter 15

(11/6/2016) Just wanted to put the reminder out there that I'm messing up the Supernatural timeline. Like, a lot, at least for seasons 2 and 3.

Thank you **RHatch89** , **IoSolUno** , and **thedarkpokemaster** for the reviews! And pizza for all you new favoriters and followers!

* * *

( _Lyrics by Robert Johnson, blues guitarist and singer, recorded in 1937. The following year he would die in the middle of a performance. Unconfirmed witnesses swear it looked as if he'd been savaged by some kind of wild animal._ )

 **Crossroad Blues**

I went to the crossroads, fell down on my knees  
I went to the crossroads, fell down on my knees  
Asked the Lord above, have mercy now, save poor Bob if you please

Standin' at the crossroads, tried to flag a ride  
Whee-hee, I tried to flag a ride  
Didn't nobody seem to know me, everybody pass me by

Standin' at the crossroads, risin' sun goin' down  
Standin' at the crossroads baby, the risin' sun goin' down  
I believe to my soul now, po' Bob is sinkin' down

You can run, you can run, tell my friend Willie Brown  
You can run, you can run, tell my friend Willie Brown  
That I got the crossroad blues this mornin', Lord, baby I'm sinkin' down

* * *

September 2006

* * *

 **NPR Hourly Newscast**

JANINE: Live from NPR news in Washington I'm Janine Phan. A bank standoff in Milwaukee has ended with three fatalities and the escape of two suspects. David Grant from WUWM Milwaukee has the details.

DAVID: The City Bank of Milwaukee was taken over yesterday near closing by Ronald Reznick, an employee of the nearby Milwaukee National Trust, who locked the front doors and held both customers and bank employees at gunpoint. There are conflicting reports as to the role of his two co-conspirators, but the FBI has identified them as brothers Sam and Dean Winchester. Dean Winchester, once thought to be deceased, is the suspect of several murders and believed to be armed and dangerous. Their whereabouts are currently unknown.

* * *

( _Phone call from Joyce Summers to Dean Winchester_ )

DEAN: Hello?

JOYCE: Dean, it's Joyce.

DEAN: Uh… hey! How's it going?

JOYCE: There's a poster in the post office. Again. Only now there's both of you on there. Not to mention that the FBI pulled Buffy out of class to question her! What in the world is going on?

DEAN: Uh… shit. ( _harsh whisper_ ) Sam! Help me!

SAM: ( _whisper_ ) Who is it?

DEAN: ( _whisper_ ) Joyce!

SAM ( _whisper_ ) Shit. ( _into the phone_ ) Hey, Joyce.

JOYCE: I'm assuming you know why I'm calling.

SAM: Would you trust me if I said that it really, _really_ , wasn't what it seemed?

JOYCE: Maybe. Just tell me what happened.

SAM: There was this guy, this–this really messed up guy. He took the whole bank hostage and me and Dean, we pretended to be his friend so he wouldn't hurt anyone.

JOYCE: And?

SAM: The authorities didn't want to believe us, so we ran.

JOYCE: ( _heavy sigh_ ) Oh for goodness sake. Wouldn't the other people have vouched for you?

SAM: Wouldn't have made a difference. There's this guy, Henriksen? He's already made up his mind about our guilt. Just… if he shows up there, just please don't tell him where we're at.

JOYCE: Well, since I actually don't know where that is I don't have to pretend.

SAM: I'm really sorry, Joyce.

DEAN: ( _in the background_ ) I'm sorry too!

JOYCE: Fine. But you boys stay away from Buffy until this clears up, got it?

SAM: Don't worry. We were planning to anyways.

JOYCE: All right. Be careful out there.

SAM: Bye, Joyce.

* * *

 _October 2006_

* * *

( _Phone call from Buffy Summers to Dean Winchester_ )

DEAN: Hey Buff'. What's up?

BUFFY: Do you know someone named Gordon Walker?

DEAN: Stay away from him.

BUFFY: Well, duh, we figured that out pretty quick. He was _here_.

DEAN: Is everyone okay?

SAM: ( _in the background_ ) What happened?

DEAN: ( _to Sam_ ) Gordon showed up in Sunnydale. ( _to Buffy_ ) Well?

BUFFY: Luckily, yeah. He was following Spike.

DEAN: Wait. Hold on a sec. When did that bleach blonde asshole get there?

SAM: ( _in the background_ ) Who? Spike?

DEAN: ( _to Sam_ ) Hold on. ( _call placed on speakerphone_ ) There.

BUFFY: Yeah, Spike. He and Dru… _Drusilla_ turned up a couple days ago. You guys, he's a lot worse than we thought.

SAM: How so?

BUFFY: ( _deep sigh_ ) Turns out he's old. Like, over a hundred. He's faced two Slayers and he's killed them both.

DEAN: We're in Colorado. We can be there tomorrow.

BUFFY: No, no don't. I can handle it. Besides, we still haven't found where he's holed up. I'd rather you make sure this Gordon guy doesn't show up again.

SAM: Yeah, well, he's obsessed with killing vampires and you live on Vampire Central.

BUFFY: Got that vibe pretty quick. He almost staked Angel.

DEAN: Good.

SAM: Dean…

DEAN: Fine, fine, whatever, Angel's got a freaking halo now or something. Anyways, Gordon shows up again you call us right away.

BUFFY: Will do. Love you guys!

SAM: Love you too, Buffy.

* * *

 _October 31, 2006_

( _Invocation spoken by Ethan Rayne to Janus, god of chaos_ )

The world that denies thee, thou inhabit.  
The peace that ignores thee, thou corrupt.  
Chaos. I remain, as ever, thy faithful, degenerate son.

( _Response from Janus_ )

Yo, Ethan, my man! I'm kinda busy, but I guess I can make an exception. Besides, these two chuckleheads are driving each other crazy even without my help. _Love_ the floofy dress on that Slayer over there. Take her down a few pegs, eh?

* * *

 _November 2006_

* * *

( _Conversation between Real Estate Agent Stephanie Parsons and a prospective buyer_ )

"…And compared to other places in Southern California, Sunnydale properties are relatively cheap. For this price you wouldn't be able to get even a _studio_ up in Santa Barbara."

"I'll take it."

"Well, um, it's California law, but I have to disclose to you that the previous owners, the Fogerty's? Their son found their bodies in the attic. They'd been… um, they'd been there for… well… it's all been cleaned up and there's nothing else wrong with the home."

"Doesn't bother me."

"Which is why their children as selling it so cheap—oh. Oh really? You're sure?"

"Yeah. Cash good?"

"Yes. Cash is… cash is very good. I'm sorry, what did you say your name was?"

"Ruby. The name's Ruby."

* * *

( _Phone call from Sam Winchester to Rupert Giles_ )

GILES: Hello?

SAM: Hey, Giles, it's Sam. I've been calling all day. Do you not have a cell phone?

GILES: I've done quite well without one up until now.

SAM: Uh, okay. Listen, we caught wind of some witch named Ethan Rayne. He's heading for Sunnydale looking for a dude named "Ripper"? ( _3 seconds of silence_ ) Giles? You still there?

GILES: Um, yes-yes, of course. Ethan just doesn't know how to stay away, I suppose. He was here around Halloween. Made a right mess of everything.

SAM: Yeah, that sounds like the right guy. Who's this "Ripper" dude?

GILES: Well… Well that's me.

SAM: Excuse me?

GILES: ( _annoyed sigh_ ) Some of us have had the luxury to outgrow our wrongheadedness. Perhaps your brother will be lucky enough to be given that chance. Regardless, it's sufficient to say that I know why he's coming.

SAM: Okay. You need any help?

GILES: No no no. We'll be perfectly fine. You two be careful out there.

SAM: We will. Call me if you change your mind.

GILES: Yes, of course. Goodbye.

* * *

( _From the journal of Samuel Colt_ )

September 20, 1859. Finally lay down the last border to the devil's trap. Shot two demons trying to stop me. Good thing the key's the gun.

* * *

( _Start of the 5pm television newscast from station KCWY_ )

Good evening. Residents of Casper, Lamont, Waltman, and the surrounded areas called 911 late last night after a large plume of black smoke was seen in the air. Firefighters pinpointed its origin to Calvary Cemetery, a graveyard that has been abandoned since 1922. The source of the smoke has yet to be determined but authorities assure residents that there was no sign of a fire or explosion.

In other news…

* * *

 _December 2006_

* * *

( _Phone call from ? to Bela Talbot_ )

BELA: Yes?

?: Bela Talbot?

BELA: It depends on who's calling.

?: A potential customer, love. I hear you're the proper one to call if I have something that needs retrieving.

BELA: For the right price.

?: Good. Got a job for you. Have here a book that needs translating. Key's a gold cross, buried in the crypt of—

BELA: Josephus du Lac. I'd heard his book was found somewhere over the Hellmouth. I can get it for you, but what's my incentive?

?: There's a Watcher here. Fancy little ponce has a whole bloody library of rare books. I'll show you where.

BELA: I'll need proof. Normally I take cash that's been placed quite lovingly in large briefcases.

?: Bloody hell… You can have du Lac's bleeding novel when we're done with it! Just get me that key!

BELA: Send me a photo of the volume and I'm yours. ( _call ends_ ) I _hate_ dealing with vampires.

* * *

( _Phone call from Sam Winchester to Buffy Summers_ )

SAM: Buffy.

BUFFY: ( _mimicking a low, gravelly voice_ ) Sam. ( _normal tone_ ) What's up? You guys finally coming by?

SAM: Yes. Dean has something to tell you.

BUFFY: Okay, and he's not on the phone because…? ( _3 seconds of silence_ ) Hello?

SAM: ( _harsh whisper_ ) Tell her!

DEAN: ( _harsh whisper_ ) Why're we doing this right now?

SAM: ( _harsh whisper_ ) If you won't tell her _I_ will! ( _into the phone_ ) Buffy, Dean—

DEAN: ( _in the background_ ) Don't you fucking dare! ( _scrapes and thumps_ ) Give me that. ( _into the phone_ ) Buffy, we're coming by. We're in Wyoming. It's gonna take a day or so.

BUFFY: Oh no you don't, you—( _call ends_ ) Oh that's it, Mr. Stupid-Monkey-Butthead. I'm egging your car when you get here.

* * *

 **Author's Note** : Scrambled seasons, like scrambled eggs. Hope that the two "mystery" people were identifiable…

Ran up against the whole "made up for story purposes" thing with Calvary Cemetery; nonexistent in Wyoming. I did find out there's a city called Wyoming in Michigan that _does_ have one. That's not confusing or anything.


	16. Book II: Chapter 16

(11/10/2016) Uh. So. Any other Americans out there kinda freaked out?

Thank you **philly cheese dude** , **jkmp28** , **IoSolUno** , **RHatch89** , and **thedarkpokemaster** for the reviews! And all you favoriters and followers get 'Murica Freedom.

* * *

When Buffy saw the Impala driving up to the front of the school her first thought was that the car looked really, really good for having been smashed all to hell by a semi. Her second thought was that she was absolutely _furious_ that Dean's "one day" to meet with her had turned into _three_.

She stomped over as her brothers were exiting, the creak of the old-fashioned doors a wonderfully familiar sound, and promptly whacked Dean on the shoulder. He yelped as she growled, " _That_ was for being late."

"I said it was gonna be a day or so!"

"'Or so' doesn't mean tacking on extra ones just because you felt like it!"

"We had some things to do," Sam said quietly. "Well… Dean had someone… he found a pair of twins to—" the younger brother's face flushed. "Anyways, we're here now. Is Giles inside?"

"Uh, I guess. Why?"

"Because we need his help with this."

"With _what?_ I still have no idea what the two of you are so freaked out over!"

The virulent glare Sam shot his brother made Buffy uneasy. Dean, however, ignored them both and leered at the girls walking out of the school. "Hey," he said slyly, "you know which of these chicks are legal?"

"Ew. What is _wrong_ with you?"

Sam suddenly grabbed his one each of his brother's and then his sister's arms and began hauling them into Sunnydale High. "Let's get this over with."

* * *

Willow and Xander caught sight of the newly arrived Winchesters and followed them cheerfully into the library. When Sam attempted to discourage them from coming, Buffy became adamant that they stay. She had the horrible feeling that after Dean told her what was going on she'd need the support of her friends.

Giles' eyebrows lifted in apprehension when they all walked into the library. "Sam, Dean. I had no idea you were in town."

"Hey, Jeeves," Dean answered as Buffy and her friends got comfortable. "Just got here."

"I-I see. I'm very sorry to hear about your father. He was a good man."

Dean swallowed and thanked him for his condolences. Impatient, Buffy curtailed any further pleasantries by demanding, "Tell me. Now."

"Tell you what?" Giles wondered.

"They called Buffy a few days ago," Willow told him. "Dean is supposed to say something."

When silence ensued, Sam grit his teeth and snarled, "Dean."

A resigned Dean threw up his hands and cried, "Fine! Didn't expect a freaking audience." He sighed. "Yellow-eyes is dead."

"That's a good thing, right?" asked Willow.

"There's more," Sam said ominously.

The two brothers launched into the harrowing events of the past week, beginning with Sam's disappearance from a diner they'd stopped at to get a quick meal. Dean managed to skim through most of his brother's ordeal with the other psychic children. Much to Sam's outrage, the eldest of the trio skipped over a crucial point in the story and jumped to how they'd discovered that one of the psychics, Jake, had been coerced into helping the demon. Yellow-eyes needed someone to bypass Samuel Colt's extraordinarily large devil's trap in order to open the Hellgate it contained, a plan that had unfortunately come to fruition.

"Good Lord," gasped Giles. "How many demons escaped?"

"Hundreds?" Sam guessed. "Thousands? We have no idea."

Dean then tried to explain how their father had clawed his way out along with the demons to help them and couldn't finish. Sam smiled sadly at Buffy. "Dad said… he said to let you know he loved you."

Buffy's eyes watered, but she couldn't cry. Not when she knew that there was something Dean was still hiding. Then she realized the crux of her brothers' narrative. "Wait. Dad was in _Hell_?"

Dean wiped a hand down his face. "Remember how we _thought_ that there was some kind of deal involved with me getting cured? Turned out to be the truth."

A wide-eyed Willow asked, "S-So your dad agreed to go to Hell so you would live?"

"But why?" Xander wondered.

"I don't know, Dean," Sam said angrily. "Why do _you_ think dad did it?"

"Sam," Dean warned.

"No!" his brother shouted, causing most of the rest of them to jump. "You've been trying to avoid telling her long enough! Buffy," Sam said to his sister, "I died."

Buffy had been leaning against the table, her arms folded, but at Sam's confession she was on her feet. "What?"

"Are you a ghost?" Xander asked fearfully. "Ow!" he cried when Willow stomped on his foot.

"Jake killed me," continued Sam. "And Dean… Dean—"

"I made a deal," inserted the brother in question.

" _Excuse_ me?" Buffy asked incredulously.

"A _crossroads_ deal?" inferred Giles.

"Yes," Dean replied.

"And, um," the Watcher stuttered anxiously as he adjusted his glasses, "you got the standard ten years, I imagine, before they own your soul."

"Nope. I got one."

Silence descended. Xander and Willow stared at Dean, appalled. Buffy's face was assiduously blank while Sam's clenched fists reflected the frustrated anger in his eyes. Giles, however, slapped his hand on the table he stood by and barked, "You bloody fool!"

Dean shrugged. "It's done."

"For God's sake—" Sam began.

"It's _done_."

The clack of fashionable boots hitting linoleum echoed into the ensuing quiet as Buffy approached her elder brother. For a long moment, Dean merely eyed his inscrutable sister. He knew her usual reaction to tragedy (real or perceived) was to vocalize her feelings. He should be seeing tears, hearing screams and recriminations, maybe experiencing the pain that came with a kick in the shins. Any one of those would be less unnerving than this emotionless stare.

Therefore when Dean abruptly found himself on his back, ears ringing and lip split, he wasn't quite sure how he got there.

Through the haze he could faintly hear Willow crying Buffy's name and running past him. Sam and Xander were looming above and from what Dean could make out they were trying to decide whether or not to leave him there. With a wry smirk, Sam gave in to pity and reached a hand out to his brother.

After a few steps Dean moaned and collapsed into the nearest chair. Remorselessly, Giles tossed him a handkerchief to blot the blood on his lips. "Thanks," Dean mumbled.

"I don't appreciate gratitude when it comes from large imbeciles."

Dean did his best to glower at the Watcher while Sam broached the question they'd been meaning to ask. "Do you have anything that'll help? Any spell, or–or history that we can read up on?"

Giles took a moment to clean his glasses and collect his thoughts. "I've never heard of anyone getting out of a crossroads deal. In fact, most of the tales that I've read appear to be tailored to try and _prevent_ such a thing from happening." With great pity, Giles gently told Buffy's younger brother, "I'm sorry."

Distressed, Sam tried to continue with his inquiries, but Dean cut him short. "Enough, okay? If the freaking Watcher doesn't have any info, then no one does."

Sam sat next to his brother and hung his head. "We have to keep looking. We just _have_ to."

* * *

"Buffy, stop," pleaded Willow.

The Slayer halted and faced her friend. "What?" she snapped.

"Buffy, I'm so sorry."

Bereft of any sort of coherent response, Buffy burned off some of her outrage by pacing back and forth a few steps. Finally she managed to utter, "He's… He's so _stupid_!"

"He did it to save Sam."

"So now I've got both my brothers for, what, a whole year and that's it? How is that any better?"

"It's better than not having him around at all?" Willow tried.

"I-I don't know. I don't know! I need to go." With that, Buffy turned back around and ran. She burst through the double doors and took off at a sprint.

Buffy's best friend had no need to speculate about whose arms she was fleeing into. Willow only hoped Angel could offer the Slayer the comfort she so desperately needed.

* * *

Once Dean regained his equilibrium Sam said goodbye to Buffy's friends and dragged his brother to the Impala. He dropped the shorter, dumber man into the passenger side after appropriating the keys. "Are we telling Joyce?" Sam asked as he revved the engine.

"What for?" came the surly response.

"She does care, you know. When… _If_ you're gone in a year she's going to want to know why."

"Good idea. Except, far as I know, Buffy _still_ hasn't told her about all this crap. Just forget it."

Sam's knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. They drove in silence for a few miles before he finally uttered, "I hate this."

"Hate what?"

" _This!_ You acting like this isn't some big deal!"

They drove past the alleyway that held Sunnydale's most popular club. "Hey, how many chicks you think I could pick up at The Bronze?"

"I'm serious!"

"So am I! I told you to leave it alone and I meant it. End of story."

They pulled up at the Summers' home as Dean finished speaking. Sam left the car as quickly as possible and used the walk to the porch to calm himself down.

He couldn't understand it. His brother had been maudlin since their father had died, but Sam hadn't thought the depression Dean had fallen into had gone so far as to make him suicidal. He _had_ to have known that if he did this Sam wouldn't ever stop searching for a way to get him out of Hell. If it took months, years, decades, the quest would continue until he found a solution or he dropped dead himself. Sam would be lost, and but for Buffy he'd have no blood relatives left.

But then again, Buffy's lifespan hung on a thread as well, with her calling making her a veritable magnet for every dark creature on Earth. If he lost _both_ of them…

Sam buried his fearful suppositions and rang the Summers' doorbell. He knew Giles would continue to help him with research. They had time. They _would_ find something in time.

They just had to.

* * *

There was an opulent mansion for sale in Sunnydale and Bela Talbot thought she might buy it just so she had somewhere to go when she needed to be in Southern California. A veritable smorgasbord of artifacts were lying about near the Hellmouth just waiting for someone to pick them up. Besides, this wouldn't be her first time visiting the town; the mayor was quite generous when it came to paying his procurers, not to mention that he was a reliable repeat customer.

Then she saw that damned Impala driving past her with those damned Winchesters inside and decided it would be best to conduct her business quickly and then leave town.

The vampire had given directions to a factory on the outskirts of town that from the outside looked rather dilapidated. Disappointingly, the interior wasn't much better, though there had apparently been a token effort to clear the dust. A long wooden table complete with high-backed chairs took up the middle of what must have been an assembly room. Dead flowers littered the floor.

"Hello?" Bela called amiably into the semi-darkness.

"Bela," came the delighted answer. A platinum blonde figure in black leather emerged from a side doorway and swaggered towards her.

"Spike, I presume?"

"That'd be me, love."

"Very well. You promised details if I came in person and here I am."

The hungry look in the vampire's eyes had her reaching into her jacket for a pistol. "I didn't come unprepared."

"Bullets won't save you."

"They will if they're tipped in wood. Kindly tell the lackey you have sneaking up on me to back off." When Spike merely continued leering, Bela turned on her heel, cocked the hammer, and shot her would-be ambusher in the heart. The anonymous idiot turned to dust, and when the thief turned around she placed the weapon on her (now alarmingly close) employer's chest.

"You're good," said Spike, impressed. He sauntered towards the head of the table where a bespectacled vampire sat surrounded by ancient papers and tomes. Without warning he wrenched away the sheet that the other vampire had been writing on and walked it over to Bela. "Here. Dalton was kind enough to draw you a map."

Bela lifted her eyebrows at the scrupulously detailed diagram. "Explain to me why _I'm_ getting this and not one of you? I thought graveyards were where most of you lot made your home."

"It's a large cross," said Dalton as he adjusted his glasses. "Vampire physiology makes it rather painful to grasp holy objects without—"

"Yes, yes, I know," Bela cut in impatiently. "But you _could_ pick up the bleeding thing with oven mitts and save yourself my fees."

Spike withdrew a cigarette and lit up. Bela found the fact that a highly flammable creature kept a zippo in his jacket greatly amusing. "There's a Slayer in town," the vampire explained. "And, if you haven't noticed, most of the rest of these blokes are idiots."

"Fair enough."

"We'll keep the girl distracted while you get the bloody cross. We meet back here when it's all said and done."

"And what about the hunters?"

Frustrated, Spike threw up his arms. "Oh for—you saw hunters? _Here_?"

"Sam and Dean Winchester. Trust me when I say that they're a right pain in the arse."

"He's _here_ ," a mellifluous voice sang happily from the shadows. "The melody in his blood fills my ears. The dance is beginning." A sickly female vampire, her eyes bruised from fatigue and her skin pale, floated out of the darkness. She placed graceful fingers on Spike's chest. The way they looked at one another made Bela inwardly gag.

"Drusilla, love," Spike urged, "you should be resting."

The female looked fondly at her mate before turning dark, luminous eyes on Bela. "You," Drusilla whispered, the madness in her gaze freezing the thief in place. The thief's eyes widened as the vampire swayed closer, a malevolent smile turning up the corners of the creature's lips. "I know what you did."

Bela scrounged up her courage to say, "I've done a good many things. You'll have to be more specific."

"He came to your room," said Drusilla as she circled the other woman. "He wanted to play games. Naughty, _naughty_ games." Once she was in front of Bella she brought her hands up, fingers splayed. Ever so slowly the vampire lowered her digits one at a time until only her left pinky remained. "It's come due. She'll send the dogs to collect."

Drusilla giggled and stepped back into Spike's arms. He whispered something in her ear and gave her a discordantly gentle kiss on the lips. Horrified, Bela turned away and hurried from the factory. The thing might say something else, dredge up more of her past, make her _feel_ the room and the tears and the pain.

The sooner she was done with this job the better.

* * *

As soon as Angel opened his door Buffy fell into his arms and burst into tears. Without a word the vampire pulled her inside and sat on his bed. He held her close as she wept piteously.

When she finally stopped, Angel handed her a handkerchief and she blotted her eyes and nose. Before he could ask what the outburst was about, Buffy launched into a tirade about her brother Dean's fatal decision and the events that had led up to it. Angel had already been aware of their supposition regarding John Winchester's death and he was chagrined to hear the theory confirmed. That Dean would make the same deal after knowing the consequences was disturbing. And yet… "I understand why he did it."

Buffy gave an indelicate sniff and glared. "This isn't some self-sacrificing noble thingy, is it?"

"It's about love," Angel replied gently. He tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "It's about making sure that those you care for are okay."

"Yeah, well, I'm _not_ okay. There is no okay in this. This is just… just… I don't know." Her head fell into her palms.

The vampire sighed. "It's also about guilt."

Buffy's head shot up so fast she nearly bludgeoned Angel's nose. "Guilt? For what?"

"You said your dad died so that Dean would live, right?" She nodded. "Buffy, I know all about guilt. I've been atoning for a century trying to alleviate my own. But no one has ever sacrificed themselves for me. No one _would_ have."

"I would," Buffy whispered.

"And I for you," Angel replied quietly. "Do you see?"

"Yes." She laid a light kiss on his lips. "But promise me that you won't?"

He laid his forehead against hers. "I can't do that."

"You suck."

They shared a small chuckle. "You'd better get home," Angel finally said.

"I don't wanna," Buffy pouted.

"I know, but your mom will get worried."

She groaned and stood. "Okay, okay. Meet me at the graveyard later?"

Angel smiled. "All right."

* * *

Dean eyed his sister apprehensively when she stepped into the kitchen, but beyond not speaking to him she didn't convey that there was anything untoward. He had a moment's flash of irritation; instead of at least hearing his side she'd gone and ran into the arms of that stupid vampire, or so Willow had said. Maybe Angel was good, maybe he wasn't, but a vamp was a vamp and Dean would be damned if he'd let Buffy be hurt by it.

The two brothers had been corralled into chopping meat and vegetables for dinner. Joyce was preparing spices and a pot for a stew while they labored. When Buffy asked what she could help with she was told to set the table and then slice up the loaves of crusty bread that were sitting near the refrigerator. Buffy pointedly glowered at Dean when she picked up the serrated knife and kept eyeing him as she cut.

Dinner ended up being somewhat tense. Buffy continued to refuse to talk to her eldest brother. Dean's method to cajole her into speaking was to gradually get more and more inappropriate. In order to save them from his brother's increasingly pornographic commentary, Sam was forced to spin out plausible stories for their travels and to stretch each new one out as long as possible. He managed to linger the longest on the incident with Bela Talbot and the pilfered cursed rabbit's foot by claiming it had been a heirloom of their father's. Somehow he managed to coax Joyce into a lengthy rant about what she thought should be done with thieves.

They retired to their beds soon after, Buffy claiming that she had homework and the brothers truthfully saying that the drive had exhausted them. They discovered that the guest room had been given a slight change. After realizing that Sam and Dean would always be visiting together, Joyce had traded the queen bed for two twins. The taller brother eyed his with trepidation.

"What's with you?" Dean asked.

"My feet are going to hang off that thing."

"Aw, poor Sammy. If you want, we can shove our beds together and cuddle instead."

Sam dropped his duffel on the bed and rolled his eyes. He knew Joyce meant well, but it would still be uncomfortable. Most of his bag was filled with the dirty clothes of the past few days and he began dutifully piling them up to throw into the wash.

The younger brother let out an exasperated sigh when he encountered an item that most definitely wasn't his. "Come on, Dean," Sam complained as he hung the offending item off one finger.

"Oh, there it is!" his brother exclaimed cheerfully. He reached out to take it as Buffy popped her head in the room.

Their sister peered at the tiny piece of clothing. "Do I want to know which of you wears lacy black g-strings?"

"It was in Sam's bag," Dean explained.

Buffy wrinkled her nose. "Gross." She then stepped all the way in and plopped herself down on Dean's bed. "I need your guys' help with getting out tonight to patrol," she stated quietly.

"What for?" Sam asked suspiciously.

"Because it's easier than climbing out the window?"

"You could finally tell her."

"Sure. Then _you_ could tell her that a big cloud of black smoke could come swooping down at any minute and make everyone a demon!"

"Uh, fair enough."

Without warning, Dean walked to the doorway, stuck his head outside, and yelled, "Joyce! We're going to take Buffy to The Bronze, okay? Bro and sis bonding."

From down the hallway Buffy's mother replied, "Just don't be _too_ late."

"There," Dean said. "Let's go."

* * *

Buffy pretended to gussy up for the club for her mother's sake, then changed into jeans once they had driven off. "Angel is going to meet us there," she announced.

"What for?" Dean asked sullenly.

"So we can make out in front of you. Why do you think?"

While Dean sputtered over the idea of his baby sister smooching a vampire (in plain view no less), Sam wondered, "He been helping you a lot?"

"Once in a while. Giles too. Since Spike showed up they've been kind of hovering like… hovering things."

"Look," Dean interjected, "is he actually your freaking boyfriend or what? Are you guys… serious?"

"You mean have we had sex yet?"

The Impala suddenly swerved into the (fortunately) empty adjoining lane and wobbled for a few seconds afterwards. Its two passengers went sliding about until its horrified driver regained control. Dean did his best to feign nonchalance as his brother and sister stared.

"You okay now?" Sam asked irritably.

"Yeah," his brother muttered. He cleared his throat. "Sure."

"Did you want an answer?" Buffy queried blithely. Dean's knuckles whitened on top of the Impala's steering wheel.

"Let's finish traumatizing Dean _after_ we get out of the car," Sam suggested.

They arrived at Eden Memorial Park, one of the Sunnydale's larger cemeteries, a short while later. Dean shot out of his seat as soon as possible and headed for the trunk. His siblings soon joined him and the three began squabbling over who got which weapon.

"Dibs on the crossbow!" Buffy cried as she snatched the weapon.

"Hey!" Dean objected. He yanked it back. "I'm oldest. I get the coolest weapon."

"No fair," his sister whined.

"Here," Sam said. He handed over a machete and a stake.

Buffy admired the blade under the street lamp. "Ooooo, shiny."

"That it is, darling," a woman's voice called in a familiar English drawl.

Dean lifted his purloined crossbow and pointed it at the approaching figure. Bemused, Buffy watched Sam grab a pistol and mimic his brother's stance. When she looked towards what they were aiming at, she saw a pretty brunette with a generous set of lips striding towards them. She wore an exquisitely fashionable short coat over a black pants outfit and had her hands up in surrender.

"Bela," snarled Dean. Buffy recalled the name as the thief Sam had spoken about during dinner.

"Boys," she replied. Then, after a moment, amended her statement with, "And girl. Fancy meeting you here."

"Fancy, my ass. What sort of crap you planning on pulling here?"

Bela made a disapproving noise. "Shameful language in front of such a young girl. Since I spotted you I figured you might want to help."

"With what?" demanded Sam.

"I was set to meet a client in Los Angeles but I found him dead. Vampires. I'd heard word of a cross in this cemetery, one that disintegrates the creatures by sight: the cross of Josephus du Lac."

"And?"

"I'm not the _Slayer_ ," Bela scoffed. "I have no intention of going hand to hand with a gang of bloody vampires. But with this I could handle them from a distance."

"Sounds good," Buffy declared. "Let's go find the super cross."

"Hold up," said Dean. He peered at Bela. "Why the hell would we want to help you find this thing?"

"He might have been a client," Bela explained sadly, "but he was also a good man with a wife and a young daughter. All he wanted to do was protect them. I gave them the hex bags he requested, but I think this would be a far better monster deterrent, wouldn't you say?"

A few long seconds passed as the brothers considered her request. Disgusted by the woman, but moved by her (supposed) motives, Sam dropped his pistol and said, "Fine."

Dean lowered the crossbow before walking over to Bela and stabbing her in the chest with one finger. "You fuck with us again, I'm shoving one of these bolts so far up your ass you'll choke on splinters."

"That's lovely," Bela purred. "You use that line with all the girls?" She looked at Buffy. "So. Do I get a proper introduction?"

"I'm Buffy, their sister. I _love_ your outfit. Where did you get it?"

Sam slammed shut the Impala's trunk as Bela and Buffy struck up a lively discussion about fashion and began heading into the cemetery. He exchanged bewildered looks with Dean before following. Neither had any doubt that Bela was holding something back, but the minute possibility that she was working for a noble cause had them amenable to a temporary alliance. A _very_ temporary alliance.

Somehow Bela managed to convey a single minded focus on her conversation with Buffy (the young girl really did have an acute fashion sense) while inwardly gloating over having taken advantage of the Winchesters' altruism. They didn't trust her, obviously, but they believed enough of her fabrication to at least be complacent.

The boys were good for a night's entertainment, and after her conversation with Spike's woman Bela felt her suffering was justification to indulge in some petty revenge.


	17. Book II: Chapter 17

(11/15/2016) So I went hunting for more fanfic to read. I was trying to avoid Wincest, which led me to Destiel, which led to what has got to be the weirdest trope I've ever heard of. Mpreg. Just… what. Why.

Thank you **RHatch89** and **thedarkpokemaster** for the reviews! And turkey feathers for all you favoriters and followers!

* * *

After what felt like the hundredth non-du Lac crypt, Bela got bored. "You know," she commented, "for being a Winchester you're quite petite."

"Maybe because I'm a Summers," Buffy replied.

"Oh. Half-sister then?"

"Yup."

"Interesting."

"I guess."

"So is it on the mother's side or the father's?"

"Why the hell are you trying to figure out our family tree?" Dean demanded.

"I was just making friendly conversation," Bela replied with a smirk. "You _do_ know how to do that, right? Have a conversation?"

"Yeah, just not with thieving bitches like you."

"Oh, ouch. That hurts, here, right in my perfect bosom."

"So you're really a thief?" Buffy asked suspiciously.

"I'm a procurer of rare and powerful supernatural artifacts for a select clientele. It's just unfortunate that many of these items are, shall we say, under lock and key."

"So… a thief."

"No, an _expert_ thief."

"And that's how you make a living."

"Not a role model, Buffy," Sam warned.

"What?" Bela wondered innocently. "You don't want your sister to have a _fabulous_ condominium in Manhattan with closets that are absolutely _full_ to bursting with expensive clothing?"

Buffy turned wide eyes towards Sam. He frowned down at her. "No."

"But—" she objected.

"No."

"Hey," Dean whispered as he clicked off his light. "I thought I heard something."

The rest of them mirrored his actions and hid themselves behind gravestones. A twig snapped in the cold night air. They were all reaching for their various weapons when a man called out, "Buffy?"

With a sigh that was part relief and part joy, Buffy stood up and responded, "Over here!" She turned her flashlight back on and said to the others, "It's Angel."

As Dean glowered and Sam rolled his eyes, Angel and Buffy met together for a swift hug and kiss a few tombstones away. Bela's eyebrows lifted as the couple privately conversed. "Isn't that—"

"Yes," Dean growled.

"But isn't he a—"

"Yes."

"So why—"

"Long story," Sam inserted.

"Well don't you two draw in the most fascinating people."

The pair moved towards them, thankfully without further public displays of affection. Dean and Angel eyed one another, the former with deep distrust and the latter with a mixture of pity and apprehension. While Sam had bonded at least a bit with Angel during the Master's escape, Dean's had only the violent encounter with Darla and outside vampiric encounters to form his opinion of his sister's paramour. Until the vampire could prove otherwise he was a threat, one that Dean wouldn't hesitate to dust if given the proper incentive.

At seeing the look in Buffy's eldest brother's eyes, Angel positioned himself as far from the man as possible. "Buffy tells me you're looking for the du Lac family crypt," he said calmly.

"Yeah," Sam confirmed. "Do you know where it is?"

"Yes, I'll lead you to it." The vampire peered at Bela. "Who's this?"

Dean announced the woman's name. "Just keep an eye on your wallet."

"That's called _petty theft_ , darling," Bela told him, "and I am far too wealthy to stoop to such a thing." She held up a leather billfold. "Although sometimes they have such interesting contents. The condom in here is expired, by the way."

An irritated Dean snatched it away. "Keep your hands off my ass."

"Just trying to be helpful."

"Let's go," Angel suddenly announced and, with Buffy beside him, began walking deeper into the cemetery. Dean armed the crossbow and pointed it at Bela.

"What's that for?" she asked irritably.

"Age before beauty," he declared and used the bolt to point her forward.

As they walked, Angel glanced down at Buffy in concern. "Have you spoken to your brother?" he wondered, careful to pitch his voice so it wouldn't carry.

"Not yet." Buffy looked up at him when he didn't say anything more. "You have extra-broody face." At his sudden reticence she prodded him in the bicep with her machete. "Come on, spit it out."

The vampire sighed. "I knew someone a long time ago who made a deal."

"Like Dean?" she asked warily.

"Yes. A violinist. I heard him once in Venice. The way he played, the music he made… there aren't words. I followed him as he toured so I could listen."

Angel fell silent. Buffy lifted her blade again, intent on poking him as annoyingly as possible, but he continued before she could begin. "We were in Salzburg. He was playing a concerto and dropped his bow in the middle of a cadenza. He ran and I followed him, first by scent then by screams. By the time I found him, he was dead."

Buffy's breath hitched. "Screams?"

The vampire stopped walking, turned, and placed a hand softly on her shoulder. When she stopped, the hand moved to cup her cheek. "He was ripped to shreds. I heard some kind of dog. Buffy, your brother isn't going to go in a peaceful way. He needs you now and Sam will need you later."

She stared at him, her jaw set. "No. He's not going to need me and neither is Sam. You know why? Because we're going to _save him_."

"Hey!" Dean called from several feet away. "Arm's length between the two of you!"

Buffy stuck her tongue out at her brother and Angel cast him a grimace before resuming the journey to the du Lac crypt. He'd left out several details in his narrative. How he'd found the violinist's instrument placed with excruciating care against a brick wall. How he'd mourned not the loss of the man but the loss of his music. How he'd listened with grinning pleasure to the dying man's shrieks.

Most importantly, Angel left out that he'd actually become the violinist's "friend," or at least the closest approximation to it as the black-souled vampire had been capable of. He'd accompanied the man as he tried to get out of his deal and failed. The musician sought scholars, priests, gypsies, all of whom had shook their heads and had no answers. Angel had even rustled up a real witch and tried to convince her to help. Even when he threatened her with disembowelment, and had actually begun the process, she had nothing.

At some point he would need to talk to Sam and tell him the violinist's story in its entirety so that the younger brother could prepare. Dean was going to die, but if Angel had his way Buffy would be spared the sight of his torn and mangled body once the Hellhounds finally came.

* * *

Bela was in the midst of picking the crypt's lock (she complained Sam was too slow and had taken over the task) when the quiet finally broke. From the surrounding darkness came the inhuman growl of several approaching vampires. The humans' flashlights lit upon the monsters as the doors unlocked with a clunk.

"Slayer," a male snarled.

"Soon-to-be dust bunny," Buffy mocked.

"Go," Sam hissed at Bela and Dean. "Get the cross, quick." The pair disappeared into the mausoleum.

They attacked as Sam pushed the door shut behind his brother. He fended off the knife of an incoming creature with his flashlight and withdrew his stake with his spare hand. Another monster took over as soon as her predecessor disintegrated, one more cautious of the hunter's moves. She whacked the stake from his hand and kicked him in the belly. Sam recovered quickly, drew his gun, and began firing.

Buffy dusted the male who'd first spoken (completing her own mini-prophecy) and ducked swiftly under the punch of a second. She swept the new one's legs from underneath him, knelt, and staked him. Another took the opportunity to wrap his arm around her neck.

Angel's face had transformed in the heat of the battle. The surprise of the vampire that he was fighting spoke to the depth of this group's ignorance; apparently they'd been told to ambush the Slayer and her accomplices without being told exactly who those accomplices were. He almost regretted plunging his stake into the other's chest; from personal perspective Angel knew that their viciousness most likely stemmed from their vampirism and not their former personality. Stupidity, however, existed in both states. He then charged over to help Buffy.

Relieved at the patter of dust that fell on her neck, the Slayer gave Angel a grateful look before the both of them were engaged by more foes. Back to back they fought, wordless but in sync, as the seemingly endless stream of enemies continued to flow.

* * *

Inside the crypt, Dean and Bela were pounding at a crumbling stone wall with the butt of the crossbow and the back end of a blade. Apparently someone had attempted to recover the relic at some point in the past and had been waylaid; a telltale crack had been left in the mausoleum wall. When a large chunk finally fell away they looked inside the newly made opening. There they beheld the skeletal remains of a du Lac family member, the item they sought laying upon their chest.

"Ladies first," Dean offered.

Bela rolled her eyes and reached into the relatively small opening for the cross. She wrenched it out from underneath the corpse's hands and then more carefully extracted it from the wall. "There. Pretty little thing, isn't it?"

"Little? That thing's huge."

The thief shone her light on the gold and jewels, turning it this way and that to make them sparkle. "You done?" Dean asked irritably.

"It's not my fault you can't admire good craftsmanship," she retorted. The two turned towards the door and stopped short.

Spike dropped the butt of his cigarette and ground it under his boot. "Sorry, love. Decided I couldn't wait."

"What is he—" Dean turned accusing eyes at Bela.

She ignored him. "If I'm handing it over early then I'd like to be _paid_ early."

"Now see that's the thing," said the vampire with a smirk. "I figure you can't collect if you're dead."

Bela quickly dropped the cross as Spike leapt at her, brow ridges warping as he moved. She swung her machete at him, missing by bare inches, while Dean drew his gun from his back and fired.

Bullets cracked into stone as Spike and Bela fought. "Hey!" she cried. "You almost hit me!"

"At this point I don't care!" Dean told her.

The close quarters, made even more confined by the sarcophagus in the middle, hampered the combatants. Eventually Spike's greater years and inhuman abilities turned the tide to his advantage. Recklessly, he used his preternatural agility to leap and kick off of a wall. His foot connected hard under Bela's chin. Her head snapped back and she staggered, blood from a bitten cheek trickling down the corner of her lips. The vampire yanked her into his grasp and moved to put a corner at his back.

Dean aimed his pistol at Spike. "She ain't much of a shield," he clarified.

"Probably not, but I fancy a chat. Aren't you the bloke that was with the Slayer back in Montana?"

"Maybe."

"Saw the giant outside. Where's the old man?"

"Dead."

The two men kept pace with one another as they circled about the tomb, Dean doing his best to lead Spike as far from the door as possible while the vampire leered. "You don't like this girl, I gather," the tow-headed creature commented.

"Not particularly," the hunter replied. He cocked the hammer on his gun.

"Well then. Suppose you won't mind then if I have myself a little snack." With a growl Spike latched onto Bela's neck from behind. She shrieked as he fed, the blood from her shoulder dampening her black blouse.

After a few seconds of hesitation (during which he weighed the pros and cons of letting the thief live), Dean fired a bullet that grazed the vampire's skull. The thing tore away from his meal with a curse. Bela fell to the floor as her assailant palmed the furrow on his head.

Spike spat a chunk of flesh from his mouth and gave the hunter a red grin. Dean grimly noted that the thief's neck and shoulder were now bleeding profusely, the woman's hand doing nothing to stem the flow. Her mouth opened and closed as she begged for help.

"Now you got a problem here, mate," Spike said as he prodded the du Lac cross with his foot, quite clearly unaffected by its proximity. "You could stop me from taking the trinket here or you can save the bint. Your move."

As Spike expected, Dean dropped the gun and rushed over to Bela. The hunter stripped his jacket and flannel to staunch the flow of blood as the vampire pulled out a burlap sack, kicked the cross into the air, and neatly caught the reliquary within. He then strode pompously out of the crypt.

Dean fumbled for his phone to make the emergency call. Bela's eyes had fluttered shut, but the bleeding was slowing down. He quickly informed the responder to their situation before hanging up and sliding his hands under the woman's body.

"You got a lot of explaining to do, bitch," Dean muttered as he carried her outdoors.

* * *

The fight had wound down. Combat halted abruptly when Spike emerged from the du Lac crypt and whistled sharply into the air. As much as both Buffy and Sam wanted to pursue the things, the limp body Dean carried from the crypt was of far greater concern. Angel stepped back as the eldest of the three siblings called out, "You two go flag down the ambulance."

"Why both of us?" Sam wondered.

"Because you're a freaking beanpole and she's a girl! One of you is gonna get their attention, so go!"

The siblings exchanged consternated glances and then rushed off. Angel kept his distance from the mouth-watering aroma of the blood seeping from Bela's wound. He forced himself into distraction by peering out into the darkness and watching out for further trouble. "The cross?" he asked.

"Gone," Dean answered. "Bela lied; she was working for that Spike asshat this whole time. You know him?"

"Yes."

Dean rolled his eyes when no further response was made. In the distance he spotted the flashing red and blue of the emergency responders. He turned to ask Angel to help him haul the bitch closer to the road and found empty space.

"Great," he grumbled as he took on the chore of carrying the limp woman by himself.

* * *

The EMT rummaged through Bela's coat and found her Gucci wallet with her driver's license and health insurance card. Using the generous wad of cash tucked in its folds stalled the technician's questions of when, where, and how. Having taken a _little_ liking to Bela (which put her at an advantage over the deep loathing her brothers had for the woman), Buffy chose to ride along in the ambulance. Sam and Dean told their sister they'd meet her at the hospital soon.

Once the responders were gone the two brothers headed for their car. Sam took the opportunity to ask what had happened in the crypt. Dean gave an abbreviated, profanity laden explanation as he drove the Impala away from the cemetery.

"So there was _something_ there," Sam said, "but it sure as hell didn't do what she said it would."

"Nope. Vamp walked away without bursting into flames."

"Here's my question then: what _does_ the cross do if it isn't a weapon?"

"Got no clue. Let's call Bobby."

After Sam detailed the conundrum to the elder hunter they drove to the hospital and joined Buffy in the waiting room. The trio explained their presence to the staff by saying that Bela was their friend and she had no close family. The latter was true as far as they knew while the former was a gargantuan lie. If she lived, the only thing that bonded her to them was her knowledge of Spike's plan and whereabouts.

Buffy informed them that she had concocted a large angry dog as the reason for Bela's injury, a fabrication that Dean made out to be a result of his influence and therefore a source of brotherly pride. He further egged on his sister's newfound skill at duplicity by getting her to call her mother and say that Sam and Dean had rescued a woman from being mugged. This precipitated their lengthy stay at the hospital as the stranger was too badly hurt to give them her emergency contacts and they wanted to be certain she was going to be all right.

It turned out that Bela's biggest medical issue was that she'd nearly been exsanguinated; the bite itself hadn't done much damage. They treated her for hypovolemic shock and proceeded to fill her up with precious fluids and dopamine. Being Bela's supposed "rescuers" gave the siblings an edge when it came time to convince the hospital staff to let them visit.

The thief looked at them blearily from her bed, her face wan and her neck and shoulder heavily bandaged. "I didn't know you cared," she croaked.

"Uh, no, we don't," Dean clarified.

Sam narrowed his eyes at the woman. "You're going to tell us what was really going down back there in the cemetery."

"Or what?" Bela responded petulantly.

"Or as soon as you step out of here we let our sister, the Slayer, put you back in."

"Head, shoulders, knees and toes," Buffy sang.

The thief swallowed. "Fine. Looks like he's cheating me out of payment anyways. He hired me to get that cross, said he wanted to avoid the Slayer. And no, before you ask, I have no idea what that bleeding thing does."

"Bobby might have found something out by now," Sam whispered to his siblings. "We should call him as soon as we can."

"Now," an exhausted Bela groaned, "could you all be dears and leave me the fuck alone so I can sleep?"

"When you get better," Buffy said menacingly, "you don't come back. Understood?"

"Sure, darling," the thief replied unconvincingly. She then made a dramatic show of rolling over to her side and yawning.

Sam made the phone call to Bobby as they were walking to the Impala. He placed him on speakerphone as soon as the siblings were away from other people. "You guys are looking into a real nutjob," came the familiar, gruff voice. "Josephus du Lac. Excommunicated from the Vatican."

"What for?" asked Dean as they sat inside the car.

"Apparently this guy thought _vampires_ were God's representatives on Earth. That book of his is basically a manual on babysitting one of those things."

"Book?" Sam wondered, confused. "What book?"

"Whaddya mean 'what book'?" Bobby yelled. "The book that that cross is supposed to translate!"

"Bela didn't say anything about it," Buffy clarified. "She is so getting her kneecaps broken as soon as she gets out of that bed."

"Be that as it may, that thing's got everything that'll heal up one of them sons of bitches, and if I recall you all said that this Spike had some sick girlfriend shacking up with him."

"Drusilla," stated Buffy.

"He's going to cure her," Sam added.

"Well," Dean said, "cross is gone and we don't got any idea where Spike's holed up. Now what?"

"Then best get your asses in gear and _find him_ ," Bobby ordered. "Also, I got word that you've got more trouble on the way. Group called the Order of Taraka. All I know about 'em is that they're assassins and they ain't human."

"Awesome," Dean said dryly. "Why the hell are they coming here?"

"They've been hired to kill someone."

"Who?" asked Sam.

"Your little sis there. _Buffy_."

* * *

 **Author's Note** : I based the violinist on Paganini who, like Robert Johnson, was thought to have been made a deal with he devil for his skills. If you're a fellow string player and have ever looked at the nonsense that's Paganini's 24 Caprices you probably think the same.

The Buffyverse info on Josephus du Lac begins and ends with his crypt, cross, and book so I filled in some gaps with my brain juice.


	18. Book II: Chapter 18

(11/19/2016) One more paper and class is dooone! Until February. Stupid Master's capstone class grumble grumble grumble.

Part of the way Supernatural monsters work is that they're based on "real" mythological creatures, as opposed to Buffy ones that can have a free for all kind of origin. I went searching for something to correlate to the Order of Taraka members and discovered that there aren't a whole lot of cultures out there that make up human/bug monsters. Go fig.

Thank you **IoSolUno** , **RHatch89** (of the one word posts ;) ), **thedarkpokemaster** , **jkmp28** , and my first mystery guest for the reviews! And all you favoriters and followers: drop a line and you get yummy yummy cookies!

* * *

"The Order of Taraka? Are you sure?"

"That's what he said," Buffy replied. Her Watcher immediately headed for the stack of old books that seemed to perpetually live on the main table and pulled one out.

As it was the weekend the school was relatively empty. A few miscreants were enduring Saturday school and the janitors were helping the infrastructure recover from a week of teenage abuse, but otherwise they were alone. Buffy had purposely neglected to tell her friends what she and her brothers were up to; with a pack of assassins about she had no intention of letting them become collateral damage.

"So who are these guys?" Dean asked.

"They're very, very dangerous," Giles replied. "We should consider somewhere Buffy may hide to be safe."

" _We're_ here," scoffed the eldest hunter. "Can't imagine what could get past all three of us."

"They're a breed apart, Dean," the Watcher said grimly. "Unlike vampires they have no earthly desire but to collect their bounty. They find a target, and… and they eliminate it." He looked worriedly at his Slayer. "You can kill as many of them as you like, it won't make any difference. Where there's one, there will be another, and another. They won't stop coming until the job is done."

"So then we get them first," Buffy said firmly. "How do they work?"

Sam nodded in agreement. "If we can figure out what their method is we can cut them off ahead of time."

"It's not that simple," said Giles. "Each one of them works alone. His own way. Some are human, some… well, are not. You won't know who they are until they strike."

"Awesome," Dean remarked dryly. "Now what?"

"Again I must ask: is there somewhere you can take your sister? At least until we can find out who hired them."

"Now wait one second—" Buffy started to say.

"Isn't it obvious?" Sam asked rolling over the girl's objections. "It's got to be Spike."

"I don't want to—"

"We stake that dick then the contract goes away?" Dean cut across his sister.

"In essence," answered Giles as Buffy cried out, "Hey!" He continued with, "If the employer is gone then the contract should be null and void."

"'Should'? For fuck's sake, Jeeves, this is Buffy's life we're talking about!"

"Yes, something I'm well aware of, thank you very much. It is, in fact, something that I've been looking after for more than just a few months!"

With their nerves wracked over the threat to Buffy's life, Dean and Giles' ability to be civil towards one another eroded. Their conversation soon degraded into a shouting match over whose duty it was to protect the Slayer. Irritated, Sam stood to physically separate the two but his sister got there first, her shrieks of, "Stop it! Stop it! _Stop it_!" piercing through the din.

Her Watcher and her brother quieted immediately and stared, nonplussed, down at the Slayer. The look of stubborn determination on her face was familiar to all three men present; it usually preceded a statement of intent that Buffy wouldn't be swayed from.

They weren't wrong in their assessment. "I'm not going _anywhere_ ," she declared. "We need to find Spike." She focused on Dean. "Bela."

"Ugh," he groaned. "Do we have to?"

Eyebrows lifted, Buffy told him, "Uh, yes?"

"What?" a bewildered Giles asked. "What's going on?"

The siblings realized that they had begun their meeting with the Watcher with what they believed to be most important, the killers that were coming to town, and had neglected to detail fully the events of the previous night. Buffy quickly informed him about the thief, the crypt, the cross, and how Spike supposedly tied into the whole debacle. "Good Lord," Giles said, aghast. "Josephus du Lac?"

Sam acknowledged the query. "Bobby told us he'd been excommunicated, that he thought vampires were holy."

"Yes, well, as everything we know points to the contrary I can understand why du Lac was thought to be quite mad." The Watcher removed his glasses and gave them a cleaning on the corner of his sweater. "Towards the end, however, it is said that he had begun to see the error of his ways. He purged all copies of his book and cross except the originals."

"So," Dean said pensively, "we burn the book and smash the cross then Spike's got nothing to cure his crazy girlfriend and nothing keeping his bleach blonde ass here."

"Correct."

"Sounds like a plan to me." The eldest brother looked expectantly at his siblings. They both nodded.

"Back to the hospital?" asked Sam. The trio gathered themselves and prepared to leave.

"I'll come too," Giles announced. "If anything I want to find out if this is the same Bela Talbot that stole artifacts from the Watcher's Council. Right under their stuffy little noses, no less."

* * *

Bela was rightfully wary when the three siblings and the Watcher walked into her room. "Now what?" she groused.

"We need you to tell us where Spike is," said Sam.

"Sorry, no clue."

Tired of dealing with the woman's lies, Dean reached into his jacket for his pistol. Buffy stopped him by elbowing him hard in the side. "Guns bad!" she hissed.

"No, guns good!" her brother retorted.

After giving Dean an exasperated glance Giles addressed the thief. "Bela Talbot, I assume?"

"Who's asking?"

"Rupert Giles of the Watcher's Council."

The siblings were greatly intrigued by the blood draining from Bela's face and the rising rapidity of her heart monitor. "You have no _legal_ jurisdiction away from Britain."

"Quite so," Giles replied as he adjusted his glasses. "However, as you very well know the right words in the right ears and none of that will mean a bloody thing."

"The books are _gone_. Nothing I can do can bring them back!"

"That's a shame. You see, some of my fellow Watchers were very disturbed to know that those texts are now circulating among the magical community. They desperately wanted to question you about it." He pulled out his cell phone. "Now that I've pinpointed your whereabouts…"

As the Watcher began scrolling down his contacts list Bela cried, "Wait! Wait! All right! He's in an abandoned factory. North end of town. You can't miss it; it's the only one without a 'for sale' sign in front."

"Thank you," Giles said as he pocketed his phone. "Good day."

The siblings, bemused, followed the man from the room and out the door. "Giles," Buffy began hesitantly, "what was that?"

"A rather good bluff on my part, I must say."

Sam burst out laughing and even Dean had himself a small chuckle. "Dude," snorted the younger brother, "that was awesome."

"So _did_ she steal from you guys?" asked Dean.

"Yes," answered the Watcher, "but the books she stole weren't nearly as dangerous as I made them out to be. I was counting on her not having actually read through them other than to verify their titles."

"So what now?" Buffy wondered.

Giles sighed. "I think it would be best that we discover which of the Order has arrived before we rush in."

"What for?" Dean asked impatiently. "We got every weapon for every known monster out there in the trunk."

Giles shook his head. "The Order of Taraka is _old_ , Dean. Plus, it originated somewhere in Europe or Asia."

"So they might be things we've never even seen before," Sam surmised, "or things we never even knew existed."

"Unfortunately, yes."

* * *

They were in the library still trying to pin down possible members of the Order when evening fell. Sam had hacked into the local bus terminal's security footage and was going through the past few days worth of comings and goings; Dean was surfing the web for oddities around the area; and Buffy was keeping a physical lookout for intruders.

As her mother was on a plane to Paris doing work for her gallery the Slayer didn't consider her to be in any immediate danger. After all, if someone wanted to use Joyce as a lure then she'd have to be close enough for Buffy to retrieve. Willow, Xander, and (quite grudgingly) Cordelia had no such luck. As such, they were also in the library. Willow was learning illicit computer techniques from Sam; Xander was keeping watch with Buffy; and Cordelia was… being Cordelia.

"How much longer are we stuck here?" she complained. "I could be out right now. You know, with friends?"

"Go ahead, Cordelia," Xander said as he pointed at the back exit. "We won't stop you. Have fun getting murdered!" The haughty girl sneered then contended herself with pouting in silence.

Suddenly a rather lewd, feminine giggle erupted from Dean's laptop. The others stared as he slapped it closed and tried to look nonchalant. "What?"

"Ew," Buffy said.

"Dude," Sam groaned. "Seriously?"

"Hey, I got bored," Dean explained. "There's absolutely jack and shit that points to these Taraka guys."

Giles, who had been flipping through book after book in mounting frustration, sighed tiredly. "As much as I hate to admit it your brother is right, Buffy. I think we might have to form a new plan."

"I've got one," Angel said from the library doors.

Dean glared at the new arrival. "Is this a thing you do?" he complained. "Arrive out of nowhere like freaking Batman?"

"We use Buffy as bait," the vampire continued, ignoring Dean. "She's the one they're after."

"No!" exclaimed Dean and Giles.

"Okay," agreed Buffy and Sam.

"What?" cried Dean and Giles.

"It's not like she's going to be by herself," Sam explained. "Plus, we're going to be the ones getting the jump on them, not the other way around."

"What he said," Buffy tacked on.

"Does that mean we can leave?" Cordelia asked.

"I'd rather none of you were alone," Giles admonished.

"I live in a large house in a closed community with cameras and security guards," scoffed the cheerleader. "I'm _never_ alone."

The Watcher sighed and acquiesced. "What about the two of you?"

Xander and Willow exchanged glances. The red-headed girl then looked pleadingly at Buffy. "Can we stay at your place? With, you know, you and your brothers with the guns?"

"Sure," the blonde replied. "So!" she said to Angel. "How are we doing this?"

He smiled at her. "I have an idea. I know you'll like it."

* * *

The entire group left at once. After Cordelia had sped off in her Mercedes, the rest of them, sans Giles, piled into the Impala. The Watcher said he would follow in his car, a derelict 1963 Citroen DS varnished in scraped gray. Dean stared at it in disbelief. "That thing moves?"

"Why wouldn't it?" Giles responded, honestly perplexed.

"Uh, never mind."

Buffy's eldest brother maneuvered her into the middle of the front seat with a pointed glower at Angel then left the others to fend for themselves in the back. As soon as they were all settled they drove to Revello Drive.

Once there, Buffy let her friends and Giles inside and invited them to get comfortable. Sam and Dean armed them as best they could with one of every type of weapon they could think of (salt rounds, silver blade, iron blade, stakes, semiautomatic pistol, machete) and salted the doors and windows. They drew a devil's trap in chalk behind the front and back doors, affirmed that the three wouldn't be leaving the house, and drove off to the local ice skating rink.

Dean once again manipulated the seating, but rather than cram in the front with his siblings Sam squeezed himself into the back. Despite her elder brother's obvious (and annoying) misgivings over her choice in boyfriends, Buffy bounced up and down in unrestrained glee. "I haven't done this in _forever_. Remember, Sam? My Dorothy Hamill phase?"

"Jesus, I almost forgot," he laughed. "You made your mom buy you those leotards…"

"Wait wait wait, hold up," Dean interjected. "When was this?"

"I dunno, you were what," Sam asked his sister, "eight? Nine? Found those old tapes of the Olympics and wouldn't stop watching them."

"So why don't I remember?"

Buffy poked her eldest brother on the shoulder. "Because _you_ found out about boobs."

"Ah," Dean answered wistfully. "Boobs _do_ trump tiny blonde midgets."

By the time they arrived at the skating rink it had been closed for the night. Dean picked the locks while Sam disarmed the security system. "Your brothers do that often I take it," Angel remarked.

"Eh," Buffy shrugged. "Now you know our secret: we're really a family of dastardly thieves."

The vampire gave her an amused smirk and followed Sam and Dean inside. They flipped the lights while Buffy selected the correct size skates. "Aren't you going to join me?" she asked her boyfriend.

Angel eyed the bladed shoes uneasily. "Not this time."

She gave him a peck on the nose. "Fine. Let me show you my stuff."

The brothers signaled to the other pair that they were off to hide and Buffy slide onto the ice. She started out easy, doing laps forwards, and then backwards, around the rink. As her confidence grew she decided to see how much she could remember from her childhood lessons.

Half an hour in and Buffy forgot the whole reason behind the excursion. While Sam, Dean, and Angel kept watch, the Slayer spun and leapt in a rare moment of carefree abandon. With one leg poised behind her, she swung around into a spin… and fell flat on her butt.

Buffy slid across the ice into the wall, rolling her eyes at her mistake. She grasped the edge to pull herself up and felt a stranger's strong, gloved hand clamp down on her wrist. It pulled her up and she found herself gaping at a grizzly, scarred face with a black patch over its right eye. The Slayer had just enough time to register Slavic features under a rough brown beard before he reached back and punched her in the face.

Buffy fell back hard onto the ice and slid several feet away. Gunshots rang out at the same time that Angel cried her name and tackled her assailant. She scrambled to her feet in time to see her boyfriend being whacked on the side of the head by what looked like a thick wooden pole. Her attacker swung the staff around to reveal a cruel blade attached to the other end. Before he could stab it through Angel's prone form, Dean fired a warning shot right past the man's ear and shouted, "Hey! Eyes here, you dick!"

"You okay?" Sam asked Buffy as he joined his brother in holding the stranger at gunpoint.

"Fine," she replied, annoyed. She skated over near the glaring, spear-wielding man and helped Angel to his feet.

Buffy's attacker spat a stream of German at her, the tone decidedly hostile. "No comprendo," she answered.

While palming the cut on his demonically warped brow, Angel translated, "His name is Hagen. He just promised to kill the Slayer."

"Order of Taraka, I take it," said Sam. At the name of his organization, Hagen let out a short, derisive chuckle.

"Tell One-Eyed Willy here to give up his coworkers," Dean instructed Angel.

The vampire gave Dean's request to Hagen who responded by laughing uproariously. After another flow of vitriolic German, Angel grimaced. "He said no."

"All that was just 'no'?" Buffy asked incredulously.

Before further clarification could be made, Hagen roared out and charged the Slayer. He fell to her brothers' bullets a moment later.

"Crap," Dean cursed quietly as he toed the bleeding body. "I think this guy was human."

Sam knelt down beside the corpse as Dean tried to shield his sister from the sight. On one meaty hand the younger brother discovered an intricately carved metal ring. He pulled it off and held it up for Angel to see. "Got any idea if this is important?"

The vampire's face had reverted to normal. He gritted his teeth as he replied. "Definitely the Order."

Sam pocketed the jewelry. "Let's get out of here. Someone probably heard those shots."

* * *

"By all accounts, Hagen was not the _first_ Hagen," Giles said pedantically after they'd returned to Buffy's home and filled the rest of them in on the success of their plan. "Rather the name was bestowed upon him."

"By whom?" asked Sam.

"An isolated Germanic tribe that still follows the old gods. From what I've read, only the fiercest warrior among them could be called 'Hagen.' The recipient then blinds themselves in one eye and dedicates his life to violence." The Watcher adjusted his glasses pensively. "I suppose the Order of Taraka is as good as anything if all you're after is killing."

"Well, at least I'm not the only one in the world getting all chose-y," Buffy remarked. "But I get to keep both my eyeballs, so yay for me!"

"S-So how many Tarakas usually come at once?" Willow asked.

"I have no idea," said Giles.

"We keep watch in shifts," Dean suggested.

While the others arranged sentry duty, Xander's phone buzzed. He answered it and strode into the stairwell to speak. A few minutes later he cut through the discussion. "Guys, Cordelia's coming over."

"Oh, goodie," deadpanned Willow.

"What for?" asked Buffy.

"Apparently she watched her neighbor's dog get eaten alive by bugs. _Then_ said bugs came together like Voltron to make Bug-Man. Coo-coo-ca-choo."

"Awesome," Dean said dryly. "What do we do to fight that? Get a ginormous shoe?"

"I'll call Bobby," Sam suggested. He pulled out his phone and walked into the kitchen.

Angel, who had accompanied them back to the house rather than pull his normal vanishing act, announced, "I'm going out, see if I can find out any more."

"From who?" Buffy asked.

"Willy."

"Ick." The Slayer gazed worriedly up at the vampire. "Be careful." He leaned down to kiss her gently on the top of her head before leaving.

"Willy?" asked Dean.

"He owns, um, Willy's," Willow explained. "Lots of non-human customers."

"Nice." Buffy's eldest brother gave an enormous, tired sigh. "Well, we got a long night. Wake me up when it's my turn."

The others agreed and separated to make themselves comfortable and await their shifts. Willow and Xander had the first one and the TV blipped on. They bickered light heartedly over what to watch before settling on a Lord of the Rings marathon. When Cordelia arrived, too wired to sleep due to the horrifying scene she'd witnessed, she was roped into joining them.

It was going to be a long, long weekend.

* * *

 **Acknowledgement** : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episodes "What's My Line, Part 1" (BtVS 2.09) and "What's My Line, Part 2" (BtVS 2.10).

 **Author's Note** : Hagen/Hagano/Hogni is a figure from German mythology that was apparently one eyed and angry. Felt it fit even though supposedly the dude has his head chopped off at the end of his tale. Supernatural = never what you really expect it to be, yeah?

Also, historically being multilingual wasn't really that big of a deal in Europe. I figure Angel was about for long enough he'd have picked up German along the way.

My kiddo is obsessed with The Nightmare Before Christmas lately. Kinda made bugman into a combo of Oogie Boogie and those scarabs from The Mummy because… why not? Ewwwww.


	19. Book II: Chapter 19

(11/25/2016) Happy Post-Turkey Day! Did all you Americans have good food comas like I did? Om nom nom…

Thank you **RHatch89** , **thedarkpokemaster** , **ArmyWife22079** , **missmeow1968** , **philly cheese dude** , and **jkmp28** for the reviews! And if you favoriters and followers leave a little word or two you get leftover pie!

* * *

Sunday ended up being thankfully uneventful and Buffy thought it safe for everyone to head back to their respective homes. When the other teenagers expressed reluctance, Dean pointed out that a grenade lobbed in through the window would easily finish everyone off all at once. Xander, Willow, and Cordelia departed rather quickly afterwards. Before they left, they established that, including Buffy and her brothers, they would text one another regularly with assurances that they were safe.

Joyce called to check in late in the evening and she informed them that the weather in France wasn't looking very good. It was most likely that she wouldn't be back until Wednesday. Buffy's mother was actually relieved that her daughter's half-brothers' visit was to be longer than they'd initially planned. Sam assured the woman that they were going to keep watch on the house and their underage sister before gratefully commandeering the queen sized bed in the master bedroom.

Over cereal Monday morning Dean noticed Buffy checking her phone an inordinate number of times. "The hell you doing?"

"I haven't heard from Angel in hours."

"So?"

Buffy glowered at him. By unspoken mutual agreement she wasn't bringing up Dean's crossroads deal and he had shelved the debauchery and recklessness while he was in town. That didn't, however, do anything about the lingering wrath over his decision on Buffy's end. It was making her less inclined to humor her brother's ill will towards her boyfriend.

As Sam placed a mug of coffee in front of Dean and then sat down with one of his own he noticed the rising tension between his two siblings. Before Buffy could do something drastic (like introduce Dean's face to the leftover milk in her bowl), he quickly offered, "I'll go and check his place. Maybe his phone is just out of battery or something."

"Thanks, Sam," Buffy said. She rose from her seat and planted a kiss on her younger brother's cheek. When Dean whined about being ignored he got a slap to the back of the head. "Come on," his sister ordered. "I thought you were going to drop me off."

"I dunno. I might have a freaking concussion."

"Cut it out, you big baby." Buffy hauled her elder brother up by the elbow. "If I'm late again Snyder might kill me. Or expel me. I'm not sure which would be worse."

The eldest and the youngest of them headed out the door with friendly jabs at one another the entire way. The middle one shook his head. Sam then recalled the number of old books Angel had in his underground home. Maybe the vampire had something they hadn't yet seen that would unlock the secret to getting Dean out of his deal. It couldn't hurt to ask.

* * *

Unfortunately, Angel's home was vacant.

Sam sighed and looked around. The vampire's bed was made, a novel carelessly tossed onto the top, and a few tomes were piled casually on his desk. A partially finished pencil drawing of Buffy was beside the stack, eraser leavings scattered randomly about. Sam also saw the black canvas of a duffel bag peeking out from under the bed; Angel hadn't done any packing for a lengthy excursion. His prolonged absence was now a cause for worry.

The hunter headed for the bookshelf and started perusing titles. He figured the vampire wouldn't mind if he borrowed one or two. Much to his disappointment most of the volumes were duplicates of ones that either Giles had in the school library or ones that Sam remembered spotting at Bobby's. The remainder appeared to be an eclectic variety of fiction. With a sigh, he turned around to leave… and was abruptly punched in the gut.

He instinctively tightened his abdomen in response and staggered back into the shelves. Somehow, as books rained down on his head, Sam managed to use his body to brace the bookcase well enough to prevent it from toppling completely. When he finally caught a glimpse of his attacker, he was completely dumbfounded.

The swarthy young girl was standing in a near textbook perfect sideways stance and had her fists prepped to both block and punch. She shared Buffy's age but her eyes didn't share Sam's sister's penchant for grim delight or mischief. This girl appeared to be focused completely on the business at hand.

"Who—?" Sam started to ask and got an incoming kick for his query. He blocked it with his arm and tried skimming away from the wall. As Angel's home was in an L-shape, and the hunter was in the smaller part, he ended up sliding across the vampire's desk and knocking nearly everything off of it.

A flurry of attacks followed. Sam suddenly realized that the strength behind the girl's swings belied her small size. "What are you?" he snarled as he leaned away from a backhanded punch. "A demon? One of the Order of Taraka?"

A swift swiveling backkick slammed the hunter in the chin. His teeth clicked together harshly. Pinpoints of pain drove into his skull and down his neck. Dazed, Sam ended up on the ground with his back against the wall.

"Neither," the girl stated proudly. Then, in a light Jamaican accent, declared, "I am Kendra. De Vampire Slayer."

* * *

Sam settled the standoff between the two of them by taking a bottle of holy water from inside his jacket and pouring some on his hand. When the supposed Vampire Slayer saw no deleterious effects she agreed to follow the hunter back to the school.

Angel lived relatively close to Sunnydale High and the pair arrived within the hour. School was well in session by this point and the man Sam assumed was the infamous Principal Snyder was prowling the halls. He caught a terrified young man lingering at his locker after the bell. The subsequent chastisement allowed Sam to slip himself and Kendra into the library.

His brother was already there perusing what Sam hoped to God wasn't pornographic material on Giles' computer. Dean's presence wrought an astounding change on the girl. As soon as Kendra laid eyes on the eldest of the siblings her spine stiffened and she focused everything she had on Giles. At the Watcher's inquiry she began a stilted recitation on who she was and why she was in town. When Dean stood up and looked her up and down in disbelief her litany came to a mumbling end.

"Well that don't make sense," said Dean as he planted himself in front of Kendra. "Buffy ain't dead. Thought the new one don't get called until the previous one goes belly up."

"Well," stuttered the new Slayer, "I mean… Dat is… I'm not sure if—"

Kendra was saved by ringing of the school bell. Sam and Dean glanced at one another and retreated into Giles' office in case a student came waltzing in for actual library business. The new Slayer stood where she was, her back straightening even further, and monitored the door with her hands locked behind her back. When Buffy, Willow, and Xander came in, offhandedly chattering about their history class, the Kendra stuck her hand out and demanded, "Identify yourselves."

The three teenagers were nonplussed. Giles hurried out from behind the circulation desk (where he'd been attempting to act as a normal school librarian) and explained. "Buffy, this is Kendra the, um…. the Vampire Slayer."

"Who the what is a what?" came the blonde's bewildered query.

"Hah!" Xander exclaimed. "I knew this 'I'm the only one, I'm the only one' thing was just an attention-getter." He turned towards Kendra. "So you're a Slayer, huh? I like that in a woman."

Kendra turned away and hunched her shoulders. She stuttered out a few half-formed words as Buffy's brothers emerged from Giles' office. "Hey, Buff'," called Sam.

Worriedly, Buffy walked up to her younger brother. "Did you find him? What's going on? Who _is_ this?"

"Angel wasn't home. _She_ was there. I guess there's two of you now…? Kendra?"

Being surrounded by strange boys had apparently robbed Kendra of her composure. Giles stepped in and said, "There's obviously been some misunderstanding here. Do you have a Watcher?"

The presence of a familiar authority figure appeared to steady the new Slayer. "Sam Zabuto, sir."

"We've never met, but he's very well respected."

"He's a real guy?" Buffy asked doubtfully. "As in, non-fictional?"

Kendra ignored the other Slayer's question and addressed only Giles. "Do you allow dis many people to know of our world, sir?"

"Well," he replied, adjusting his glasses nervously, "there are a few people, civilians if you like, that know of Buffy's identity. Her brothers here, obviously, and the others spend time together… well, socially."

"And you allow dis, sir?"

As Giles grasped for an answer, Dean let out a snort. "What's the big deal?"

Without looking at him, Kendra answered, "I was taught the Slayer must work in secrecy for security."

"Me and him," said Buffy's eldest brother as he gestured from himself to Sam, "We're hunters. This whole monster thing ain't anything new."

Kendra finally fixed her eyes on Dean. Distaste drew up a corner of her lip. "Hunters? My Watcher says that hunters are bumbling apes dat have no business in our world."

Dean lifted his eyebrows and frowned at his sister. "I don't like her."

"Can't say I'm feel the friendlies either," Buffy replied. Then her eyes widened. She walked up to Sam. "What do you mean he wasn't home?"

"Just what I said," he answered. "Ask her."

Buffy clapped a hand on Kendra's shoulder and jerked the other Slayer around. Once they were face to face, Buffy demanded, "Did _you_ see Angel?"

"You mean Angelus," Kendra replied. The disdain in her voice deepened even further. "He is a monster."

"No no no," corrected Giles. "He's good now."

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Gypsy curse. It-It's a long story. His soul is clean now."

"But he looked just like another animal when…" The new Slayer trailed off.

"When what?" Buffy growled menacingly. " _What did you do_?"

* * *

Buffy wanted to skip classes immediately in order to go to Willy's (where Kendra had apparently trapped Angel), but Willow abruptly remembered that Principal Snyder had been prowling about. His intention, apparently, was to determine who was missing Career Day and to subject them to harsh administrative justice. Reluctantly, Buffy allowed Dean to go in her stead with Kendra. The teenagers headed out to their assigned booths and Sam stayed in the library as backup against the Order of Taraka.

As the hallways filled with milling students and ardent recruiters, Sam perused a Watcher's diary. Half an hour in and he commented, "You know, this is almost like a hunter's journal."

"I believe hunters took the practice from the Council," said the Watcher.

"So then the Council _was_ in contact with hunters. If that's the case, then why doesn't anyone know about the Slayer? I think if Buffy had never been Chosen then we would have never found out."

Giles drew in a deep sigh. He locked gazes with Sam, his expression stern. "If I tell you then the information goes no further than you and your brother."

"Uh, okay," the perplexed hunter assured him.

"You must understand that this was established for the safety of both the current Slayer and the hunter community. I think it was… yes, 1958. Something happened, I'm not certain exactly what, and we lost our direct method of contact with the Americans. The Council did the best it could under the circumstances, but somehow the majority of the hunters were never informed of the identity of the newest Slayer."

"So, what, some kind of big misunderstanding took place?"

"That's… an understatement. The Slayer was named Maria Gutierrez. She lived in Tijuana, Mexico. Surprising number of vampires there." The Watcher removed his glasses and cleaned them on a corner of his sweater. "A group of hunters were there on holiday. Evidently one extremely inebriated individual spotted Maria doing something that would have been impossible for a normal human girl, took her for a demon, and shot her in the face."

"Jesus," Sam gasped.

"Her Watcher, in his… his _grief_ became obsessed with finding her killer. He succeeded in his endeavor a few days later. The hunter was still in the city, drowning in guilt and drink, being consoled by several friends."

"And?"

Giles cleared his throat and placed his glasses back upon his face. "Maria's Watcher killed them all. Magically. And painfully."

Sam took a few moments of silence to digest the tale. "Wait," he finally said, "but that was just, you know, a couple of assholes that made a mistake. Why the big coverup?"

"You of all people should know how closely knit some hunters are with one another."

With a chill, Sam surmised, "Someone retaliated."

"More than one, and on both sides. For a while it was war between our two societies, a guerrilla war that seemed like just random murders to the general populace. Eventually the Council felt that enough was enough and ordered all Watchers back to England. Until a Slayer was called in New York during the 1980s we remained overseas and cut all ties to North America. We couldn't afford to lose another Slayer like that."

"Why?" Sam scoffed. "Because then the Council would have to bury its head in the sand again?"

Giles gently took the Watcher's diary out of Sam's hands. "All of us are trained with the knowledge that our Slayers will most likely die before us. We know eventually some vampire or demon or monster will get to them, but most of us love them like our daughters. For one of them to die from simple drunken idiocy at the hands of a supposed ally—"

A gunshot rang out from the outer halls. The Watcher and hunter both snapped their heads towards the library doors. A panicked mob fled past the doors' windows, their speed growing exponentially when further shots were fired. Sam and Giles cautiously peered out of the swinging doors, then, when they couldn't see anything, began swimming through the crowd.

By the time they made it to the scene the danger had passed. One male student was lying in Willow's lap bleeding from a bullet wound to the arm while the rest were beginning to recover from the sudden fright. Dean had evidently returned and was hurriedly stuffing his favorite ivory-handled handgun into the back of his jeans. He spotted Sam and Giles and walked over to them.

After drawing them around the corner away from the incoming emergency personnel, Dean whispered an explanation. "One of those Taraka dicks was masking as a policewoman. Totally freaking gun-happy, like I don't think _I've_ got that many weapons on me. Buffy was at her booth and bitch fired on her."

"Good Lord," Giles gasped.

"So where did the Taraka member go?" asked Sam.

"Took a hostage," explained his brother, "got to the door, then ran off. Dropped the kid before she went sprinting away."

"And Angel?" asked the Watcher.

"Gone. Dunno what happened."

Giles pulled out his phone. "I'm going to contact Kendra's Watcher. Council should have his number. I think between Spike, Drusilla, and the Order of Taraka we'll need all the help we can get."

* * *

After Sam Zabuto gave the green light to Kendra's extended presence they began to try to dig up the details of Josephus du Lac's vampire cures. While Buffy and Kendra went over the more dangerous armaments inside of Giles' office, Dean asked for volunteers to go keep watch on Bela; with a trigger happy member of the Order of Taraka around they couldn't risk others getting hurt if fake-policewoman decided to go after the thief. Whether Bela herself became collateral was of little consequence.

Cordelia and Xander both hopped on to the opportunity to escape doing research. They returned a few hours later with Bela in tow. All four of them were disheveled and tense.

"What the hell happened?" Sam asked.

"Bug man," Xander replied.

"Ugh!" Cordelia uttered. She glowered at Buffy. "Why is it that anytime _you're_ involved with my life something incredibly disgusting happens to me?"

Bela lifted her eyebrows at the teenager's self-absorption then planted a glower of her own on Sam. "Thank you for telling me the Order of Taraka was in town, by the way."

"Why?" Sam wondered suspiciously. "Someone put a hit out on you?"

"No, it's just that when these bloody assassins are around they cause unnecessary chaos. Barreling through the populace to get to their target, no finesse whatsoever."

The still wan Bela sat down at the table along with Dean. Cordelia was about to do the same when a black beetle scurried out from under the thief's sleeve. The teenaged girl let out a shriek as Bela pragmatically reached down for one of her boots and slammed it down on top of the bug.

"Oh, hush," Bela chastised. "You and your little friend here ran and hid anyways. Frankly, I'm surprised that the two of you fit so well in that closet."

Willow peered at Xander and then at Cordelia, both of whom suddenly looked distinctly uncomfortable. Thankfully for them, Dean launched into the story of their verminous encounter. "Guy came in and said he was a nurse. Looked just like any other person, scrubs and glasses and all. Then he freaking bursts apart into a gazillion fucking bugs right on top of Bela."

"Didn't you say that the bugs _ate_ your neighbor's dog?" Sam asked Cordelia.

"Yeah," she replied, "but man, this lady's got some reflexes. She rolled away and then shoved the bed towards the window."

"We were stomping and kicking and I even tried shooting the goddamn things," Dean continued. "Nothing. Then security comes in and Lego bug monster swarms all over the dude and fucking devours the shit out of him."

"How'd you get out?" Willow asked.

Bela jerked her head towards Buffy's elder brother. "Dean here kicked the bed completely out of the window and threw us both onto the mattress. Thank goodness for California and your lack of high rises."

"We, uh… hid," Xander added.

"People were _screaming_ ," Cordelia said. "We just stuffed paper towels under the door crack and waited it out."

"Kid texted me when it was safe," Dean concluded. "Bela and I had peeled out of there and waited at a safe spot until then."

"Where did bug man go?" asked Buffy.

"Dunno, don't care. Hopefully dove right into a pool of Raid."

"Actually," Giles inserted as he tapped a page of the book in his hands, "that solution might not be far off from the mark. Your bug man is apparently an awahondo."

"He makes cars?" Xander wondered.

"No, you fool, awahondo are ancient insect creatures that were thought to sting its victims and enslave their souls. In reality they're a colony of carnivorous beetles whose queen has a single mystical attribute: the ability to cloak her entire hive in the guise of a human being."

"Why a person?" asked Willow.

"I imagine it's because it's just one of the many things out there that have risen above mankind on the food chain." The Watcher adjusted his glasses as he looked down on the page. "They're incredibly rare, sort of inadvertently hunted down to near extinction by modern pest control."

"So he _can_ die," said Sam.

"Only if he is disassembled and only if you kill the queen."

"How do we even know which one of them that is?"

Giles gestured at the flattened beetle on the library desk. "The drones are all black. The queen is apparently black as well but has an iridescent sheen. Sort of like an abalone shell."

"Ugh!" Cordelia uttered again. "I'm going to the locker room and taking a shower." She marched off, a single beetle falling from her hair and landing on the floor. Kendra promptly stomped on it.

"So d'ere is de woman with the guns," said the newer Slayer, "and dis man of bugs. Plus Spike and Drusilla."

"Uh oh," Willow suddenly murmured as she stared worriedly at the book in her hands.

"Uh oh?" Buffy repeated. "What is this 'uh oh'? Is it a bad thing? It's _always_ a bad thing."

"I think I found the ritual thingy. At-At-At least what du Lac said was the one surefire method to cure a sick vampire." She read from the page. "'Upon the new moon you must find hallowed ground. The sire of the vampire must be present.' There's… not much else of-of consequence… hey! Do you think we can go on a donut run?"

Bela yanked the book away from the red-headed girl and continued reading. "'The ritual shall renew the vitality of the vampire by depriving the sire of his life force.' So this ritual of theirs will kill Drusilla's sire."

Buffy paled and Giles placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "What is it?"

"Angel. _He's_ Drusilla's sire."

"Man, that guy got major neck in his day!" Xander quipped. Dean promptly whacked him on the back of the head.

"We need to find this church," Buffy declared. "We need to find where this ritual is going to take place."

"Agreed," said her Watcher, "and we must work quickly. We have only a few hours before sundown."

"Don't worry, Buffy," Willow told her friend, "we'll save Angel."

"Angel?" Kendra scoffed. "But our priority is to stop Drusilla!"

"Angel's our friend!" Xander exclaimed. "Except I don't like him."

"We find Angel we find Drusilla," said Sam. "If we don't save him then we've got a bigger problem on our hands. When we saw Drusilla in Montana she kind of seemed insane. I can't imagine what she'll want to do when she's healthy."

Buffy was tempted to reveal the extent to which Angel was complicit in Drusilla's ugly mental state but she knew Dean would take the damning evidence and run with it. She decided to keep the information to herself. Instead, the Slayer looked around at the gathering. "We find Drusilla. We rescue Angel. We make Spike fit into an ashtray. Are we all in on this?"

A chorus of affirmations, some more enthused than others, answered her. Buffy nodded. "Good, because I've had it. You can attack me, you can send assassins after me, that's fine. But nobody messes with my _boyfriend_."

* * *

 **Acknowledgement** : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episode "What's My Line, Part 2" (BtVS 2.10).

 **Author's Note** : 1958? Yeah? Subtle nudge nudge to later Supernatural funtimes.

Maria Gutierrez was the Slayer I made up way, way, way back in chapter 7. Feel free to backtrack!


	20. Book II: Chapter 20

(12/2/2016) I'm at a lack of witty commentary. Moving again for the second time this year and it suuuuuucks. But this will be the last one for a long time so, yay!

Thank you **ArmyWife22079** , **RHatch89** , **philly cheese dude** , **thedarkpokemaster** , **missmeow1968** , and Mystery Guest for the reviews! All you favoriters and followers leave a word and get fluffy bunnies!

* * *

The problem became annoyingly clear a short time later. Hallowed ground could only mean a church, of which there were exactly _forty three_. For a town of only 38,500 inhabitants it seemed a little extreme. To those who knew a Hellmouth lay under the city's foundations the high number of comforting sanctuaries was perfectly acceptable.

Most of them continued perusing books hoping to find a counter to du Lac's methods including, surprisingly, Bela. Dean whittled stakes and watched over Willow's shoulder as she hacked into various security cameras around town to see if they could pinpoint the vampires' movements. After showering, Cordelia volunteered to go on the suggested donut run and came back with coffee and pastries for everyone.

Buffy and Kendra sequestered themselves in Giles' office in order to get to know one another better. If they were going to be sharing the mantle of the Slayer it was best, in the Watcher's opinion, that they know who they were fighting with. Their conversation ended up being relatively brief; unlike Jo, Buffy discovered that she had very little in common with Kendra. A good deal of that was due to the latter's aberrant upbringing; apparently once her people identified Potentials they were taken away and trained in isolation. It was thought to be a great honor.

A few hours in, Xander and Sam interrupted the Slayers' privacy to retrieve more books. "Excuse me, ladies," the teenaged boy said jauntily.

"Need one of those compendiums," explained Sam. He pointed between the two Slayers.

Xander reached over to retrieve the volume. His proximity caused Kendra to look embarrassedly at the floor. When the boy commented, "Nice knife!" in reference to the one the newer Slayer was holding she nearly dropped it.

Once Xander left the room, Sam asked Kendra, "Why is it the kid makes you flip out but me and Dean don't?"

"Because you are hunters," she stated matter-of-factly.

"So?"

"It means you are more ape d'an human."

Sam pressed his lips tightly together, irritated, and shot his sister a pleading glance. "Oh no," Buffy corrected, "Sam and Dean are mostly human. They wear clothes, they don't pee on the carpet, all that stuff. Besides, we wouldn't want to insult the apes by putting them on the same level."

"Thanks," her brother said flatly.

"You're welcome," Buffy replied.

"Hey, can either of you think of any way to narrow down our church choices? There's no way we have enough time to check every single one."

"D'ey would have to be abandoned," Kendra suggested.

"Yep," agreed Buffy. "Really don't think whatever Spike has planned falls into the 'bystanders are welcome' category."

Sam sighed. "Willow already said that narrows it down to an even dozen. Still too many."

The three went quiet as they contemplated possible strategies. Buffy decided to attempt smalltalk to break the uncomfortable silence. "I'm guessing dating isn't big with your Watcher either," she told Kendra.

"I'm not permitted to speak wit' boys."

"Unless you're pummeling them." Buffy paused. "Wait a minute."

"What?" asked Sam.

"That guy! The sleazoid Kendra knocked around in the bar."

"You t'ink he might help us?"

"Hold up," Sam interjected. "Both of you don't need to go. I'll take Buffy; Kendra can stay in case one of those Taraka guys shows up."

The newer Slayer gave him a withering look, but Buffy agreed. "We don't know if there's more than bugman and gun-lady around."

Kendra gave a long, drawn-out sigh. "Very well."

Dread laced through Sam's veins. Whatever was coming in the next few hours would be violent and undoubtedly deadly. Dean was still slated for Hell and a fatal injury would cause his debt to be called in early. "Do what you can to keep our brother here," Sam told Kendra.

Buffy's eyes widened as she realized why the request had been made. Kendra, however, was annoyed by the prospect. "How am I supposed to do dis?"

"Tell him he can bring in his guns," answered Sam.

"That'll work," agreed his sister. "If there's anything Dean likes, it's handling his pistol." She scrunched her face up in disgust. "That came out _really_ wrong."

* * *

Their precautions ended up being necessary. Dean was immediately interested when his brother and sister said they had a source to shake down, but when Kendra demanded he show her the Impala's trunk arsenal his attention wandered. A chance to show off his Baby's custom interior to someone that could actually appreciate its bloodthirsty splendor was always a good thing.

When Sam and Buffy arrived at Willy's the bar owner gave them panicked glances and attempted to flee. Sam's long legs caught up to his scurrying pace easily. The hunter threw the miscreant to his sister who slammed him against his own rack of alcohol. "Angel," Buffy snarled. "Where?"

"I-I-I have no idea!"

The Slayer reared her fist back and punched him in the nose. Willy clapped his hands over his face and let out a squawk in protest. "Honest! I don't know where Angel is!"

"Maybe you should hit him some more," Sam offered.

"I do like my hitting!" his sister replied. The fist wriggled in preparation to shoot forward again.

"You know, m-maybe I did hear something about this ritual," Willy said, suddenly obsequious. "Yeah, i-i-it's coming back to me. But, uh, I'd have to take you there."

"Let's go."

"Hold up, Buff'," Sam urged as he placed a hand on his sibling's shoulder. "We should at least call the others."

"Text them quick or nothing. I'm _going_."

Sam sighed and did as she asked, making certain that his message conveyed a sense of urgency. He'd been so caught up on preventing Dean's death that he had forgotten about Buffy's penchant for jumping into fatal situations. She couldn't possibly think she could take on Spike, his probable cronies, and whatever members of the Order of Taraka that were there waiting for them all by herself.

The younger brother was beginning to feel haggard, worry about both of his siblings' disregard for their lives pulling him to his limit. They were all the family he had left and he would let himself be broken before he would let them go.

He just hoped he wouldn't have to.

* * *

Angel and Drusilla were trussed up, the censer was lit, and all Spike had to do now was to call up the demon and get the ball rolling. He shoved his hands into a set of welder's gloves and picked up the smoking reliquary. "Eligor," he chanted, "I name thee. Bringer of war, poisoners, pariahs, grand obscenity."

The vampire swung the foul smelling implement and continued. "Eligor, wretched master of decay, bring your black medicine."

"He can't."

With a clang the censer fell to the floor. Murderously irritated, Spike turned towards the high-pitched voice near the door and beheld a young, blonde child in a fancy chiffon dress. Two demons in soccer moms, their stench wafting over from across the room, flanked her. As for the girl…

There was power there. _Great_ power. What was unusual was that the demonic miasma she exuded had an almost seductive note to it. If it wasn't for the fury Spike felt at being interrupted he might have fallen to his knees in supplication, just like the morons that were supposed to be guarding the doors. "Who the hell are you?" growled the vampire.

"Pretty girl," Drusilla whispered, her eyes lit up in adoration. "Have you come to give me birthday presents?"

"No," Angel moaned deliriously. He made a weak, futile attempt to free himself. "No no no."

The girl's eyes rolled back and became fathomless orbs of pure white. Her minions blinked and followed suit. Their eyes, however, were the standard black. "I am Lilith," she said clearly, the child's form and voice in stark disparity to her aura.

"And?" scoffed Spike.

"Lucifer gave her a crown," Drusilla crooned. "A red, red crown. He molded her into a beautiful horror." With a malicious glee, the madwoman smiled. "She was the first."

"First what?" Her paramour's eyes narrowed. "First _demon_?" Drusilla answered with a tired giggle.

"Eligor is dead dead dead," Lilith sang. "But I'm here!" Her expression brightened. "Do you want to play?"

"I don't have time for silly games, love," Spike said with a smirk. "Now take your lesbian parents there and _bugger off_!"

The girl frowned and waved an arm still somewhat pudgy with baby fat. Spike found himself slammed into a side wall. "I don't like rude people," Lilith pouted. "I like your girlfriend, but you're not nice." She twisted her wrist and something inside the vampire's body crunched. Another gesture and Spike dropped onto the floor. He spat a mouthful of blood onto the wood.

"Spike," Drusilla pleaded.

"Fine, fine," he acquiesced. With more bravado than actual physical strength Spike stood and wiped the blood from his lips. "So then. What do you want?"

Lilith gave him a beaming grin. "Oh, yay! I knew you wanted to be good. I just need an itty, bitty favor, pretty please?"

"Yeah? And what's that?"

"I need you to kill someone! Isn't that fun?"

* * *

"Hey."

Sam and Buffy came to a halt at the greeting. The church Willy was directing them towards was just ahead.

Standing in the dim light of a parking lot lamp was a young woman, pretty, with long blonde hair and bangs. She wore a canvas jacket over jeans and a pair of ankle boots that Buffy coveted. Once the stranger noticed that she had their attention, she headed towards them.

Willy, who had walked nearly all the way to the church before noticing he was no longer being followed, jogged back over to join them, annoyed. "What's the holdup…? Hel-lo," the bartender leered once he got a good look at the woman. "And who do we have here?"

"You don't want to go in there," she said, ignoring Willy's pathetic attempts at flirtation.

"Yes, I do," countered Buffy. She began stomping towards the doors.

"Lilith is in there."

"Who's that?"

Irritated, the woman told Buffy, "Someone you don't want to fuck with. Just wait and she'll be gone. Then you can go in and rescue Angelus."

"Wait," Sam said as he pulled his sister back. "How do you know all this? Why should we trust you?"

"I'm trying to help you," the woman replied, frustrated. "You're not ready."

"Ready? Ready for what?"

The woman cocked her head as if listening to something in the distance. "She's gone. You're safe now."

"Hold up," Buffy called. She walked up to the stranger and looked up at her. "If you know about this then why don't you come and help."

The other blonde gave her a smile that was somewhere between pitying and condescending. "I can't." She then focused her gaze at Sam. "Be careful."

As the woman turned on her heel, Sam made to go after her. He was arrested by a howl of pain from inside the church. The sound captured Buffy's attention immediately. "Angel," she gasped and rushed for the church doors.

Sam shook his head. The woman could wait. Whatever the stranger's motives were, Buffy's safety was paramount. Dean had a hard time understanding their sister's affections for Angel, and truth be told Sam did as well, but the younger brother was quite certain that Buffy was in love. Knowing what he would have done, how far he would have been willing to go, to prevent his own fiancée's murder made him both vigilant and apprehensive. Who knew how far Buffy would go to protect her vampire?

As Sam quickly followed his sister, Willy called out, "Hey, good luck in there! I'm just, ya know, gonna go check on my bar."

* * *

As soon as Dean got the text from Sam, he demanded to know what churches were in walking distance of Willy's establishment. An abandoned one was relatively close, a place once known as St. Avellino's. Dean then announced that he was taking off and if anyone else was going with they better get their ass in gear. He pocketed a stake and a handgun and marched off towards where he'd parked the Impala.

Turned out that all of Buffy's friends were ready to go. Xander and Cordelia piled into the cheerleader's car while Giles slid in the front, and Kendra and Willow into the back, of Dean's Baby. Bela, however, winced at her injury and gave them all a rousing, "Cheerio!"

They made it there in record time, the flickering lights from inside the church belying its supposed derelict state. Much to his passengers' astonishment, as soon as he cut the engine Dean leapt out from the driver's seat and pelted for the door. "Bloody fool," Giles muttered as he and Kendra followed suit.

Cordelia's car came, suspiciously, several minutes later. When Xander emerged holding a large bucket of industrial strength adhesive, Willow lifted her eyebrows. "You'll see," her friend promised.

Willow stayed near the cars armed with a cross and a stake (and the Impala's keys as a last resort) while the other two headed inside. They were met with the sight of two large vampires engaged in furious hand to hand combat with Dean. Intermittently the hunter would fire his gun to slow his opponents up. His teeth showed through a maniacal grin as he ducked under the heavy handed swing of one vamp and came up with his stake to dust the other.

Past a busted door Buffy, Kendra, and Sam were fending off Spike and a horde of vampires. Angel hung limply on the altar, his hand joined with Drusilla's, and what looked like part of the du Lac cross stabbed through both their hands. Buffy kicked Spike in the face and rushed over to her boyfriend. She then desperately tried to free him from his bonds.

Cordelia and Xander spotted the same "nurse" that had attacked them in Bela's hospital room. Xander thrust the bucket at the cheerleader who ran back into the hallway. "Hey, bug boy!" he called. The monster whipped his head around. "Yeah, that's right. I'm talkin' to you, you big cootie!"

The teenager then sprinted after Cordelia, slammed the door, and locked it. They watched in satisfaction as the carnivorous insects scuttled out from the bottom crack and were trapped in an enormous pool of adhesive. As soon as the trickle of bugs had slowed, the pair began stomping them flat.

Dean rushed into the nave, both his vamp opponents dust, to see Buffy being yanked off of Angel and then backhanded to the ground by Spike. "Hey!" the hunter barked.

The tow-headed creature, his face in its monstrous form, gave Dean a snarl before continuing the effort to free Drusilla from her sire. Before the hunter could reach the pulpit the limp female was in Spike's arms. Angel was left to collapse onto the floor.

Seeing there was a dearth of options, Dean sent a bullet into Spike's face. The vampire's head snapped sideways, his cheek burst open to expose wolf-like canines and bone. "Bloody hunters," he snarled as he gently lay his lover on the floor.

Dean emptied his clip into the chest of the approaching vampire. Not a single shot slowed Spike's advance. The creature then grabbed Buffy's eldest brother by the lapels and yanked him forward with a growl. "I don't like you," Spike said, "but I think I'll do you a favor. How about I send you off to see dear old dad?" The vampire opened his mouth and bit down on the side of Dean's neck.

Sam, who was in the middle of fending off the blades of the faux policewoman from Buffy's career fair, saw his brother's plight and cried out urgently out for his sister. The Slayer rushed at Spike and pulled him off of Dean as Sam landed a knockout fist to the Taraka member's head. As Buffy's eldest brother fell to the floor, the vampire stumbled back and gave a grotesque laugh.

"Vampire," Kendra called. Spike turned around and was allowed one astonished glance before the newer Slayer grabbed him by his shirt and tossed him to the back of the pulpit.

"Who the bloody hell are you?" Spike shouted as he picked himself off of the floor. Unfortunately for him, two supernaturally endowed girls were there waiting for him.

"It's your lucky day, Spike," Buffy told him.

"Two Slayers," Kendra added as she punched the vampire in the eye.

"No waiting!" finished Buffy as she punched him in the other eye. The vampire then fell to the floor, prostrate.

The pair of Slayers took time to savor their triumph. They then they caught sight of smoke drifting up from behind the altar. Unbeknownst to anyone, Spike's earlier flight had knocked over a good number of the candles that had been lit for the ceremony. As Buffy and Kendra gaped, flames licked up the rotten muslin curtains and set the wall ablaze.

"Time to go!" Sam yelled as he shouldered Dean's pale form.

The Slayers shouldered Angel and managed to clear the pulpit mere moments before the worn timbers of the roof groaned and gave in to the heat. Spike and Drusilla, as well as the burgeoning fire, were buried under a cascade of wood, cloth, and reliquaries.

They all paused a moment to admire the spectacle. "You think that killed them?" Sam wondered.

"You really wanna stick around to find out?" Xander countered. With some final, wary glances towards the pile of detritus the group left the church. Having her vengeance on the insect man made Cordelia generous and she offered to drive Willow and Xander home. The rest went in the Impala as Sam drove his brother to the emergency room.

* * *

For reasons that neither Sam or Dean could fathom, the doctors and nurses were almost nonchalant about the second "animal" bite in two days. They merely sighed tiredly and took Dean away for treatment. When the younger brother asked Giles about it, he shrugged and said, "We're on a Hellmouth. What did you expect?"

Eventually Dean was set up in much the same manner as Bela: with transfusions, pain killers, and a sterile bed. After determining that Buffy's brother was going to be all right, Giles offered Kendra a couch to sleep on and the two of them walked to his home. He called several hours later, just as the sun was peeking over the hills, apoplectic with rage.

"That bloody thief took off with some of my bleeding books!" he shouted through the speakerphone. "Rare volumes, ones that cannot be replaced. If I ever see Bela Talbot again…"

"Yeah, well, get in line," Dean said. "The hell you doing at the school this early anyways?"

"I came to verify whether or not the bleeding Order of Taraka would return. Apparently with the death of their employer Spike's bloody contract is null and void." The repeated thumps of books being knocked over echoed from the library. Giles then proceeded to mutter a stream of some very unGiles-like phrases that left Sam gaping and Dean impressed.

"Buffy's sleeping," Sam interjected. "I was going to call the school later and tell them she has a family emergency."

"Nah, don't bother," yawned Buffy as she uncurled from the hospital chair. "I'll go. Just need to head home to freshen up. And Giles: wow. I didn't even think you even _knew_ some of those words."

Flustered, the Watcher cleared his throat and his language. "Buffy, Kendra said that she would go back to the hospital to speak with you before she heads home. She's most likely outside."

"Okay, thanks."

"We'll let you know when we head out," said Sam. "Bobby said there's signs of a witch coven out in Massachusetts."

"All right," replied Giles. "Do be careful."

After the call ended, Buffy left the room to go find Kendra. That left Dean to scorch under the glower of his brother. "What?" he groused.

"You stood there," Sam said, his fists clenched. "I saw you _standing there_ and _waiting_ for Spike to come charging at you."

"I was shooting at the fucker, if you weren't paying attention."

The younger brother's voice rose. "And you couldn't do that from, say, behind something? Anything? You couldn't be, oh, backing up at the same time?"

"What's the big deal?" Dean asked irritably. "Came out all right in the end."

" _What's the big_ —" Sam cut his shout off before he could draw undue attention. In a hissing whisper he berated, "Look at where you're at! In the hospital with the side of your neck practically torn out. What is _wrong_ with you?"

"Sammy," the elder brother sighed, "no matter what, one way or the other I'm going. What makes the difference if it's now or later?"

"It makes _all_ the fucking difference!" The rare profanity had Dean pressing his lips shut tight. Sam gesticulated harshly in lieu of yelling. "We've barely had time to figure a way out of your deal and you're risking your life for no reason."

Dean finally let his own temper loose. He kept his voice to the same sibilant tone and volume. "The fucking Watcher said he had nothing, _Bobby_ had nothing, what else is there? I told you: we go back on this deal and you're dead!"

"I'm _supposed_ to be dead!"

" _So am I_."

The brothers were at a seething impasse. Neither was willing to admit to their folly; either Dean's decision to sacrifice his life for Sam's or Sam's fruitless endeavor to discover some way out of a crossroads deal. Had both been mobile they would have already come to blows as a method of relieving their frustration with one another. As it was, Sam was sorely tempted to plant a fist into his brother's face and Dean was straining _not_ to leap up from his hospital bed to tackle the overgrown idiot in front of him.

The tension broke with the bouncing return of their sister. "Hey, so Kendra's going to ride in an airplane seat back home instead of sneaking into the cargo bay and… what the hell is going on with you two?"

"Nothing," mumbled Dean. Sam repeated the sentiment.

"Uh huh. Yeah, sure."

"Listen, Buff'," Sam said with a valiant attempt to filter his annoyance with Dean out of his tone, "we've got a long drive out to Massachusetts after this. You sure you're going to be all right?"

"Oh, yeah, sure," she replied, her cheery demeanor belying the usual heartache she felt whenever her brothers departed. "I'll just, you know, be here on the Hellmouth with all its Hellmouthy fun."

"We'll check on that church before we go," Dean offered. "Try and see if that blonde dickwad survived."

"Okay. You'll call, right? And text?"

"Of course," Sam assured her. He gave her a hug.

Buffy headed for her elder brother and gave him a hug as well. "Please," she whispered in his ear, "don't give up."

"I won't," Dean told her, lying.

* * *

Determining which ashes were vampire and which were burnt church turned out to be impossible. Sam and Dean called Buffy to give her the information and a final goodbye before heading out of the city.

Giles met with Kendra one final time in order to pass along his analysis of her performance. Mostly the Watcher told her that despite how well trained she was she needed to remember technique and books weren't everything. He then called a taxi for her and gave the driver a generous amount to get her to the Santa Barbara Airport safely. Once there, the lack of luggage sped Kendra through security and into the waiting area for her flight.

The newer Slayer sat stiffly in her chair and waited for the announcement to board. These past few days with the original Slayer had been quite the eye opener. Who could have thought it was possible to have a real girl's life after being Called? Were her people wrong? Could she have, after all, known her parents, had normal friends, met a boy?

Kendra shook her head. No. Even the Watcher had mentioned at one point that Buffy's case was unusual. It was clear that something about the other girl's upbringing had allowed her to be able to balance all of these things. Perhaps it was these hunter brothers of hers.

Sam and Dean. More anomalies. The hunters around the Caribbean were _nothing_ like these two men. Most of them were swaggering braggarts, bloodthirsty and uneducated, whose company was generally unwelcome in any sort of cultured society. Dean's mannerisms were actually fairly similar, but his dedication to his _family_ rather than the hunt was perplexing. Sam, however, was so different she thought he might not really be a hunter at heart. He was caring, persuasive, and, most strangely of all, intelligent.

Fondly, Kendra thought of what her Watcher would have to say about this oddity that shared his cognomen. She was still speculating as she used the facilities. When she was done washing her hands, she looked up…

And found Drusilla behind her.

This wasn't the sickly figure that had hung from Angelus; this was a gothically beautiful brunette with red, red lips and a ruffled, lacy black dress. Kendra spun and threw a backhand at the vampire, missed by scant inches, then found herself pressed against the sink with the creature's fingers around her throat.

A flight attendant emerged from a stall and drew in breath to call for help. Drusilla snapped her head to the woman, her face warping to carnivorous teeth and protruding ridges, and gave an animalistic snarl. The flight attendant collapsed bonelessly onto the floor in a faint.

Kendra renewed her struggles to free herself and was found her movements petrified by the vampire's hypnotic gaze. Those red lips curled upwards in cruel anticipation.

Drusilla's hand opened and the Slayer was blessedly free… only to find herself rocking back and forth along with the vampire, her mind screaming as her body unwillingly obeyed. "You and your friends crashed my party," said the madwoman as she slashed the girl's neck with her inhumanly sharp nails. "It wasn't very polite."

Kendra fell to the floor, her life bleeding out onto the tile. Her last sight was of Drusilla blowing a tiny kiss at her before turning to feast on the flight attendant.

* * *

Drusilla was so very, very proud of herself. Her beloved Spike was mangled, certainly, but he would heal in time. And she'd been able to fulfill the pretty little demon's request! The vampire was certain that Lilith would give her wonderfully horrible and delightful presents.

Ah, but that boy, that beautiful boy. _Sam_. The composer had died, but the melody still played in the boy's veins. They'd been strictly forbidden from harming him; his coda wasn't theirs to conduct. But, oh, such a song! It tickled her in and out and made her want to leap into the performance with an instrument of her own.

She walked from the lavatory, the humans' glances sliding past her as she put little drops of blindness in their brains. Even when the bodies she'd left were discovered and the screams began, the silly, silly walking dinners couldn't fathom her presence.

The mad vampire twirled like girl. With great willpower Drusilla fought the urge to dance, dance, dance, and kill, kill, kill. This place of metal birds had too many eyes, real and not, eyes that could travel cities and countries at a blink. Soon, though. Soon the brightest star would walk the earth and his brothers and sisters would burn all the eyes from their heads.

And then.

 _Then_.

Then she could dance and kill and there would be nothing and no one to hold her back.

* * *

 **Acknowledgement** : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episode "What's My Line, Part 2" (BtVS 2.10).

 **Author's Note** : Eligor/Eligos/Abigor is apparently the head honcho demonic general. Since Cain went and slaughtered all the Knights of Hell I figure the dude was probably on his hit list.

I based Lillith on the creepy blonde version from the last episode of season 3. The brunette was there for, like, two seconds. Plus I keep picturing her saying "ba-boom!" in Dean's head.

Saint Avellino is the patron saint of sudden death. Seeing as how the place is in Sunnydale, it seemed appropriate.


	21. Book II: Chapter 21

(12/10/2016) Oh hey, look at that. The month and days almost line up with real life. It's the little things in life that are entertaining.

All of the questions from the reviewers will definitely be answered in the following chapters. Plus I've got a soft spot for Rufus and Garth.

Thank you **jkmp28** , **RHatch89** , **missmeow1968** , **philly cheese dude** , and **thedarkpokemaster** for the reviews! And all you favoriters and followers get leprechaun gold!

* * *

( _Email from Sam Zabuto to the Watcher's Council_ )

My Slayer is dead. I have failed as a Watcher. Consider this my official resignation from the Council. Please assign my replacement to the Caribbean area as soon as possible. Upon his or her arrival I shall depart the area. Do not attempt further correspondence; I have decided to remain in isolation for the duration of my life. God save Rupert Giles from my pain.

* * *

( _Phone call from Sam Winchester to Buffy Summers_ )

BUFFY: Y'ello.

SAM: Buffy, it's Sam.

BUFFY: Hey, overgrown brother of mine. What's up?

SAM: Listen. Um… do you remember that blonde girl we met? Right before the church?

BUFFY: Hard to forget crypto-girl, but yeah.

SAM: She's a demon. Her name's Ruby.

BUFFY: _Excuse_ me?

SAM: She… She says she has a way to get Dean out of his deal. And she's helping us. So if you see her again, don't worry.

BUFFY: I don't know. You guys told me that they _always_ lie.

SAM: Just for now we're going to let her be. And… And there's something else.

BUFFY: Oh, God. Now what?

SAM: We found out how demons are made. Buffy, demons used to be humans, human souls, those ones that got sent to Hell.

BUFFY: No. Oh no. You mean—

SAM: Yes. So you see why we need her alive?

BUFFY: ( _sigh_ ) Fine. But we're going to keep trying to find another way, right?

SAM: Yeah… who knows. Anyways, things okay out there?

BUFFY: Eh. Mostly. You know how it is: vampires, demons, and Buffy, oh my!

SAM: ( _short chuckle_ ) Okay, okay I get it. Anyways, we'll see you soon. Love you!

BUFFY: Love you guys too!

* * *

( _Text conversation between Jo Harvelle and Buffy Summers_ )

JO: Hey Buffy

BUFFY: Hihi! What's up?

JO: Hey, will your mom rent me your spare room?

BUFFY: Why?

JO: I've had it. Mom won't let me be a hunter so I'm going to be one anyways

BUFFY: Hold on, let me ask

BUFFY: I said you were Sam's friend and she said yes and not to worry about rent. Just help keep the place clean haha

JO: Oh thank God. I'll be there in a few days. Will Giles help train me?

BUFFY: Don't see why not

JO: Great. Let me know if you hear of any jobs, like regular jobs

BUFFY: I think The Bronze is looking for a bartender. Or if you're really brave you could try Willy's

JO: Either will work. See you soon

BUFFY: Oh, mom doesn't know about hunters or slayage or anything. Careful what you say

JO: Still? Mom told me about that. No worries on my end

BUFFY: Okay let me know when you're close

JO: Will do

* * *

 **NPR Hourly Newscast**

PAULA: Live from NPR news in Washington, I'm Paula Greer. The town of Monument, Colorado is still reeling from a mysterious explosion that destroyed their police station and took eight lives. George Werner has the details.

GEORGE: Officer Bolton had just finished his shift on Monday night when three federal agents and two murder suspects arrived.

BOLTON: Feds just showed up, said these guys were the devil incarnate. Shoved out our prisoners and stuck _them_ in instead. Last I saw of any of 'em.

GEORGE: Five hours later, the entire station was leveled by an explosion whose cause is still a mystery. At least eight people were killed in the incident including local Sheriff Melvin Dodd, Deputy Phil Amici, and legal secretary Nancy Fitzgerald. The three federal agents, as well as the suspects that had been in their custody, have also been presumed dead. George Werner, NPR news, Colorado.

* * *

 _December 25, 2006_

* * *

( _Conversation between Buffy Summers, Joyce Summers, Dean Winchester, and Sam Winchester, 1630 Revello Drive, Sunnydale, CA_ )

"Oh my God, this is delicious."

"Thank you, Dean. It's just too bad that Jo had to work. Make sure you boys leave some food for her. Buffy, could you pass me the rolls?"

"Here ya go!"

"So, you boys ready to tell me why you're suddenly here for Christmas? I know it couldn't just be because of my cooking."

"Uh… Sam?"

"Well… uh… you know… family and all of that?"

"And this year is different from all the other years because…?"

"Mom, Dean had a cancer scare."

"Uh… yeah! That was it. You know, the cancer. With the… in the…"

"Breast. Dean had breast cancer."

" _Thanks_ , Buffy."

"You're welcome."

"Oh my goodness, Dean."

"Nah, Joyce, no worries. Just, you know, wanted to make sure I had a real Christmas dinner before—er, for once."

"Well if we're going to make this a thing then you two boys will have to start bringing something. Maybe next year you can bring the meat and I'll cook it?"

"Uh, yeah. Sure. Next year. That'd be awesome. Hey, Joyce, you got any dessert?"

"Apple pie and pumpkin pie. Which would you prefer?"

"One of each, please. Thank you."

"Pig."

"Midget."

"Dean…"

"Shut it, Sammy. Now you got the lie to use when I'm not here. Merry Christmas, and don't fuck up the rest of this evening for me, got it?"

* * *

 _January 2007_

* * *

( _Phone call from Sam Winchester to Rupert Giles_ )

GILES: Hello?

SAM: Giles! What day is it?

GILES: Tuesday, I believe. Why?

SAM: It's Tuesday. Oh my God, it's _still_ Tuesday!

GILES: Sam? Is everything all right?

SAM: Why did I call you _again?_ I already knew you didn't have any answers.

GILES: I'm sorry?

SAM: Look, do you have any information about being caught in a time loop?

GILES: That's a rare phenome—

SAM: Phenomenon, I know, and _yes_ I'm sure that's what's going on. Dean keeps dying in these weird, stupid ways and I keep waking up and it's freaking Tuesday! Again!

GILES: Perhaps I could look in the journals of—

SAM: No no no, you never find anything in there. What else?

GILES: Well, what about the Black—

SAM: No, not the Blackwood Chronicles either. You're sure you don't have anything else? Anything at all?

GILES: I-I'm sorry, Sam. Those are the only books I know that even mention such a thing.

SAM: I know, I know. Maybe next time will be—Dean, no. Give me that.

DEAN: ( _in the background_ ) What for?

SAM: Because last time you somehow rammed it through your skull.

DEAN: ( _in the background_ ) How?

SAM: ( _shouting_ ) THROUGH YOUR NOSE! ( _normal tone_ ) Giles, I've gotta go.

GILES: Um. All right. Sam are you sure—

SAM: No, don't tell Buffy. I'll talk to you again. Tomorrow. Which will be _Tuesday_ again.

GILES: Oh. Okay. Goodbye?

SAM: Bye.

* * *

( _Text conversation between Willow Rosenberg and Xander Harris_ )

WILLOW: Giles and Miss Calendar! OMG! OMG!

XANDER: My eyes are still burning. Old people kissing is just gross

WILLOW: Your mom kisses your dad

XANDER: Please. I just ate dinner

WILLOW: We should totally leave them alone as often as possible so they can make with the smoochies

XANDER: And that's my cue to sign off. Why are you texting me and not Buffy about this?

WILLOW: She didn't answer. She's probably making the smoochies with Angel

XANDER: Enough with the smoochies!

WILLOW: You're just jealous because you don't get any

WILLOW: Right?

WILLOW: Hey! I'm talking to you!

XANDER: Yeah of course not. Smoochie-less is sad old me. Anyways I better get to bed. Got more school to fail tomorrow

WILLOW: Tomorrow's Saturday

XANDER: LET ME SLEEP, WOMAN!

WILLOW: LOL ok. Night Xander

XANDER: Night

* * *

( _Phone call from Willow Rosenberg to Dean Winchester_ )

WILLOW: Hi, Dean!

DEAN: Uh. Hi, Willow. How the hell did you get my phone number?

WILLOW: It's a secret. Actually, no it's not; I asked Giles. Hey! We're going to do a surprise party for Buffy at The Bronze. You have to come.

DEAN: What for?

WILLOW: Because she's your sister?

DEAN: Yeah, but what's so freaking special about this one?

WILLOW: ( _exasperated sigh_ ) Look, you come, we make with the junk food and dancing, and then you and your brother can go back to your hobo life.

DEAN: Hey!

WILLOW: Pleeeeeease?

DEAN: Fine, fine! Might take us a bit to get there. We're in Indiana.

WILLOW: Ooooo! Whacha hunting? Ghosts? Demons? Scary witches?

DEAN: Uh… nope! Turned out to be a changeling. Good thing we were here anyways.

WILLOW: Wait, if you weren't there in the first place for a hunt then why were you there?

SAM: ( _in the background_ ) Dean wanted to get laid.

WILLOW: Uh…

DEAN: ( _to Sam_ ) Dick. ( _to Willow_ ) When is it?

WILLOW: Tomorrow night. So you can make it?

DEAN: Probably. Depends on the roads, but we'll try our best.

WILLOW: Yay! Let me know when you're in town and I can let you know where to go.

DEAN: Great. See you soon.

* * *

( _Phone call from Buffy Summers to Sam Winchester_ )

BUFFY: Sam?

SAM: Hey Buff'. Sorry we missed your party. We got sidelined up in Oregon and… um… it's easier to explain in person. We'll be there soon. What, like three, maybe four hours?

DEAN: ( _in the background_ ) Somethin' like that.

BUFFY: ( _in a small voice_ ) Can you please hurry?

SAM: What is it? What's wrong?

BUFFY: I… I… ( _small sniff and choked sob_ )

SAM: Buffy? Buffy what's wrong?

BUFFY: Angel… I… ( _in a wavering voice_ ) Can you please hurry?

DEAN: ( _in the background_ ) What? What happened? Did I just hear the name Angel? Do I finally got an excuse to stake his ass?

SAM: Dean… ( _to Buffy_ ) We'll be there as fast as we can, okay? It'll be all right, don't worry.

BUFFY: ( _in a voice that cracks_ ) Okay. ( _call ends_ )

* * *

 **Author's Note** : Tried to allude to as many episodes as possible without getting _too_ specific with the details. Can ya guess them all?


	22. Book II: Chapter 22

(12/14/2016) There's just something about finally owning your own home that makes you want to paint devil's traps on the walls and Enochian sigils on the windows.

Thank you **IoSolUno** , **jkmp28** , **RHatch89** , **philly cheese dude** , **thedarkpokemaster** , and **missmeow1968** for the reviews! And any favoriter or follower that leaves a few words gets Christmas tree branches!

* * *

Joyce sleepily let them into her home around midnight. For once she was prepared for their arrival and had made up a bed on the couch and the nearby floor. Buffy's mother told them, worriedly, that she'd tried speaking with her daughter and had gotten nowhere. She'd then heard the poor girl sobbing herself to sleep. Sam and Dean thanked her for the hospitality, retrieved their duffels from the Impala, and settled in for the night.

They were jolted awake early the next morning by the slam of the front door. Dean threw off his blanket and peered out the window. He spotted his sister, her hands clenched, marching determinedly away.

"What the hell?" Dean muttered as he pulled on his boots. "C'mon," he told Sam, "Buffy's taking off."

The two of them caught up to their teenage sister as she was turning the corner. "Hey hey hey!" Dean said as he grabbed her arm. "Where the hell are you going?"

"To school."

"It's Sunday."

"I'm not an _idiot_."

Before Dean could be obnoxious and refute her proclamation, Sam quickly inserted, "Buffy, _you_ called us. What's going on?"

"You wanna know? Then keep up."

Buffy's brothers exchanged bewildered glances before hurrying after her. She ate up the blocks leading to her school in record time then headed immediately for the back door to the library. Once inside, Buffy stomped around the bookshelves and went straight for Miss Calendar.

"Buffy," Giles began, "we're both here like you asked, but—"

Astonished, the Watcher cut off his query as his Slayer grabbed the front of Jenny Calendar's sweater and swung the woman's backside into the security cage. With ease, Buffy held the woman up. "What do you know?" she snarled.

Both her brothers and the librarian rose a clamor over her manhandling the computer teacher. Completely ignoring any of them, Buffy continued with her demands. "Did you do it? Did you change him? _Did you know what was going to happen_?"

"Buffy," Giles said sternly, "you can't just go accusing everyone around you of—"

"I didn't know exactly," Jenny replied.

Save for several quiet chings from the metal fence as Buffy let Miss Calendar down there was silence. Completely mystified, Dean broke it by asking, "Will someone _please_ tell us what the hell is going on?"

"I was told," Miss Calendar said, her head hung, "I was sent here to watch you. When they told me to keep you and Angel apart, they never told me what would happen."

As Giles was looking at Jenny, stricken, Sam asked, "Apart? Why? Is there some kind of law against dating vampires?"

"The curse," she told him. "If Angel achieved a true moment of happiness, just a moment, his soul would blacken once again."

"Hold up," Dean interrupted. "Are you saying that he's back to being a dickhead?"

"Angelus has already made an attempt on our lives," Giles said.

"Angelus?"

"It's… It's what he was called," Miss Calendar explained, "before he was cursed with a cleansed soul. He was supposed to live his life in agony, to feel guilt forever. He was supposed to _pay_ for what he had done to my people."

"And me?" Buffy asked quietly. "What was I supposed to be paying for?"

"I didn't know what would happen until after. I swear I would have told you—"

"So. It _was_ me. I did it."

"I think so. I mean, if you… um…"

"I don't get it," Sam said. "If she did what?"

Buffy gave her younger brother a look. Comprehension dawned quickly. "Oh."

"Oh?" Dean asked. "Oh what?" He gazed about and noted both Sam and Giles' vexation and the chagrin in his sister's eyes. "Oh _hell_ no. You didn't."

"Dean," Sam warned.

Dean walked over and loomed over his sister. "The fuck were you thinking?" he roared.

"I wasn't," she replied evenly.

"Well that's real goddamn clear."

"You've got _no right_ to say that to me," Buffy shot back, her volume rising. "You of all people should understand that sometimes you do stupid things when you love someone!"

Dean stepped back and got a glimpse of his brother's smug expression. Flushed, he folded his arms and said determinedly, "So then we fix it." He turned towards Jenny. "Do the curse again."

"It can't be done," she answered quietly. "Those magics are long lost, even to my people."

"But you did it once," Buffy said desperately. "It might not be too late to save him."

"I'm so sorry. I can't help you."

"Then take me to someone who _can_."

* * *

They all piled into the Impala, Buffy and Sam squished into the front with Dean and Giles and Jenny in the back. The tension pervading car's interior as they drove to one of the town's motels was palpable, particularly the rift that had suddenly developed between the two in the rear. Sam attempted to dispel the miasma by asking the Watcher some questions.

"So," he began as he turned to face Giles, "you guys keep saying that vampires' souls are tainted by Hell. What does that mean exactly?"

With stoic professionalism (and a noticeably significant amount of effort to not acknowledge Miss Calendar), Giles cleared his threat and adjusted his glasses. "Whoever the first vampire was, whatever first made them, passed along a sort of genetic malfeasance that allowed whatever it is that makes a demon a demon to be leeched by a human soul. The Watcher's Council, for the lack of a better term, call this phenomenon a 'tainting of the soul.' Anything that could be called a humanizing trait is swept away."

"Like remorse or compassion."

"Precisely. Vampires are, in fact, minor demons. It's why they've got quite a lot more weaknesses than the full demons you tangle with. It's also why they disintegrate when you kill them; their human bodies have died, torn apart at a basic level during the transformation and held together only by the demonic presence."

Uneasily, Sam looked from his sister to the Watcher. "So when you clean the soul again…"

"The humane emotions come back, and so does the guilt over whatever you might have done."

"But you said that the body had died. So wouldn't Angel's body been dusted when the soul was fixed?"

"What was done to Angel was not so much a full cleanse, but more as if the tainted essence was gathered up and locked away. If it had been removed completely, he would have died."

Dean pulled into the parking lot of the motel and cut the engine. In a small voice Jenny said, "This way," and leapt from the car. The others quickly followed. She hurried up the stairs and down the second floor walkway before suddenly stopping, stunned, at her apparent destination.

Sam and Dean drew their pistols; the door was slightly ajar and the stench wafting from within spoke of something deeply unpleasant. "Wait here," Dean whispered to the others as Sam gently pushed Miss Calendar aside.

The best that could be said about the man they found inside was that he was dead. Had he been alive he would have been in utter agony. Fingers were missing nails and had been bent in unnatural ways. Skin had been carefully excised from his exposed torso in long, straight strips. Shallow cuts were everywhere; all in sensitive places, none deep enough to kill. His face spoke of his final moments, blood and tears a horrifying mask made even more wrenching by the scream frozen on his open jaw.

"Holy crap," Sam breathed.

"Vamp," Dean postulated. He jerked his head at the gaping wound at the body's neck.

"It was Angel."

"You sure?"

"Look."

Dean followed Sam's gaze. "Oh, that's it. I'm making him a eunuch."

The door creaked, a sound that had both brothers whipping around and pointing their guns at the door. "Uncle! Oh, God," Miss Calendar cried as she ignored the weapons and rushed to the body.

As Giles made an attempt to comfort Jenny, Sam tried to bodily prevent his sister from entering the room. She gave him a level look and he stepped aside.

Buffy's eyes first lay on the mangled body, washed over the reddish-brown that liberally painted the floor and furniture, then rested on the wall. There, written in blood, were the words: "WAS IT GOOD FOR YOU?"

"I'll call 911," Sam told them. He pulled out his phone and headed for the door.

"Buffy?" Dean asked quietly.

"I know now what I have to do," she stated firmly.

"What's that?"

She looked up at her brother, her jaw set. "I have to kill him."

"Singin' my song. Where do we start?"

Buffy gazed sadly down at the remains of Jenny Calendar's uncle. "Back to the library. There's more than just Angel that we have to worry about."

* * *

On her insistence they left Jenny alone to deal with the authorities. The rest of them piled back into the Impala and headed for the school. Buffy texted Willow, Xander, and, to her brothers' surprise, Cordelia. Apparently the cheerleader had integrated herself more fully into the Slayer's world after the incident with the Order of Taraka. Her position as a member of their unorthodox little clan cemented when she'd begun dating Xander.

Sam also called Jo, who thankfully had the afternoon off. The now larger company convened in the library to hear further explanations. "So what's this 'more' you were talking about?" Sam asked as soon as everyone had settled.

The Sunnydale residents exchanged grim looks. Jo began the tale. "That birthday party y'all went and missed had some vamp gatecrashers. Buffy chased them right into The Bronze. After they were dusted we saw they were carrying a box. When we opened it, there was an arm inside."

"An _arm_?"

Dean blinked. "Like, a rotted gross corpse arm?"

"More like a fresh-looking, self-animating, really, really, really scary kinda arm," said Willow.

"It tried to choke me to death," Buffy explained to her baffled siblings.

"Well, that's new," commented Dean.

"So whose arm was it?" Sam asked.

Troubled, Giles adjusted his glasses and paced a few steps. "It belonged… _belongs_ to a demon only known as the Judge. Rumor has it he was once part of an elite group of demons that had been hand-picked and trained by Lucifer himself." He glanced over at Buffy (who grimaced) then generalized the remainder of the tale. "Suffice to say that the vampires regained their property."

"And they wanted an arm because…?"

"I assume to put him back together. About six hundred years ago the Judge was subdued. His body was then separated into pieces. A coin depicting a devil's trap was shoved inside each part to prevent him from finding another vessel. If they are reassembling him they would have to remove the coins and somehow join the body together."

"Demons," Xander said disparagingly. "It's just not their thing to make drawing and quartering permanent."

Giles ignored the quip. "The reemergence of the Judge is said to be a sign that the Apocalypse is nigh."

"And who's crazy enough to do that?" Sam wondered.

"Drusilla," Buffy named.

"Crazy-ass bitch is actually alive?" Dean asked incredulously.

"Yup."

"That's just freaking fantastic," Dean groaned. "Now what?"

Giles sighed. "If we can separate the Judge's body before he can find another vessel we _should_ be able to contain him once again."

"That's not going to work."

All of them turned towards the library's double doors. The same blonde woman that had greeted Buffy and Sam outside of St. Avellino's was standing there, arms folded. "Ruby?" Sam asked, astonished.

The others stared, bemused. Dean, however, snarled at his brother, "The fuck is _she_ doing here?"

"Got me," Sam answered.

Ruby gave them a scathing look. "I came to _help_ , you ungrateful dicks."

"Who's this?" Cordelia wondered.

Sam introduced the newcomer. "She's, um… she's a friend."

"She's a _demon_ ," Buffy proclaimed, disgusted. As proof, Ruby smirked and blinked to fill her eyes with black.

Buffy's friends shot out of their seats and backed away, Cordelia going so far as to clutch Xander's arm and hide behind him. The boy grabbed a random book and held it out in front of him. "The power of Christ compels you! The power of Christ compels you!"

"You can't banish me with 'Harry Potter,' dumbass." As Xander peered at the hardcover he'd picked up, Ruby blinked again to return her eyes to normal. "Like I said: I came to help. Not all demons are alike."

Suspiciously, Giles asked, "If you're so helpful then tell us how we can deal with the Judge."

"You can't. You need to run."

"Excuse me?" a furious Buffy demanded.

"You need to run. The Judge isn't just any demon. He's a Knight of Hell."

"Hell has Knights?" Willow wondered. "Like, with horsies and lances and stuff?"

"No, like nothing known can kill them. Not even my knife." The demon looked at Sam. "If you stay, you die."

"What, then we just let everyone else here be slaughtered by the Judge and Angelus?" he scoffed.

"Yes. We all go. Do you remember what happened the last time you didn't listen to me?"

The brothers were silent as they remembered the terrible fate of Agent Henriksen and the members of the Monument Police Department. This time, however, it was Buffy who stymied Ruby's impositions. "I'm not leaving," she declared.

"Then we can't go," Sam told the demon quietly.

"Oh for—" Ruby threw up her hands. "Fine! I think I can get boxes that will contain the Judge. _You_ need to figure out how to get him to _fit_ in the boxes."

Reluctantly, Buffy thanked her. After a final, scorching glare the demon vanished. Before her gaping friends could recover from the hellspawn's sudden disappearance the Slayer turned and asked, "Ideas. Anyone got some? What about the Colt?"

"The Colt?" Giles asked, astonished. " _The_ Colt?"

"Yup," answered Dean. "Except we got no more bullets. Just a fancy antique now."

"So just make more," Buffy said. "I've seen Bobby's silver bullet making thingy."

Sam shook his head. "Buffy, the bullets were part of the whole 'kill everything' deal. Bobby _is_ working on trying to duplicate it but so far no go."

Frustrated, the Slayer turned from her brothers to her friends. "Xander, you said you had something you were going to do today?"

The boy looked nervously between Cordelia and Willow before saying, "Yup. Soon as it gets dark."

"Anything else?"

"Hey," Sam said, puzzled. "Shouldn't you guys have called in extra backup? Kendra maybe?"

"Yeah," agreed Dean. "Where's Slayer number two?"

"I-I'm not sure," Giles answered. "When I contacted the Watcher's Council they would only tell me that there was a transition occurring. Perhaps Sam Zabuto has decided to retire and she's awaiting a new Watcher."

"So that's out. We _could_ go and head to that warehouse Bela told us about and just fry them now."

Buffy's lips pressed together tightly and Sam, who was closest, noticed her holding back tears. "No," she uttered.

Her eldest brother gave her an aggravated look. "But—"

" _No._ "

"So we just sit on our frigging hands for the rest of the day?"

"Shore up and try to do more research," offered Giles. "At least we now know exactly what the Judge is. It'll be a little easier to find some information."

"Awesome," Dean deadpanned.

"Hey, I got a shift over at The Bronze," said Jo. "Meet you guys later?"

A chorus of farewells sent her off. Sam offered to get everyone food and Dean tossed him the Impala's keys. The remainder settled in (a few quite grudgingly) to see what could be found about Knights of Hell and to wait impatiently for both Ruby and Xander to retrieve whatever it was they said would help.

* * *

The Judge had been sitting on the floor meditatively for almost all of the past twelve hours. If it hadn't been for Angelus' delightful arrival and the subsequent demonstration of the demon's power Spike would have thought the thing had died. As it was, for all the trouble it took to assemble him the Judge was being very, very boring.

The vampire drummed his fingers on the arm of his wheelchair and stared at the demon's back. If it hadn't been for the black eyes (and the fact that he'd survived being severed into six neat pieces), he would have passed as human. An extraordinary large, bald, _ugly_ human, but a human nonetheless. Pictish blue whorls and patterns that enveloped the Judge's entire body spoke of his origins, and the exquisite seams done by Dalton gave proof to how he'd been revived.

Spoke scowled at the line of five coins that the nerdy little vampire had extracted from the Judge's parts. It should have been six, but one of the nimrods in their group of disposable minions had mocked Angelus and had been forced to swallow one. The idiot was now screaming and writhing about somewhere in the back.

The things _burned_. A mandala of sorts was inscribed on both sides, one that was anathema to anything that had the taint of Hell in them. They made certain of this by pressing one onto the forehead of a human guest. They noted no deleterious effects, then they had her for dinner.

"Someone is here."

At the Judge's deep growl Spike jerked in his seat and peered around. "Now what?"

Someone clucked their tongue disparagingly. "You picked some real geniuses for guards out there."

Spike turned towards the darkened doorway and spotted a familiar tall figure. "Bloody hell."

* * *

"What time is it?" Dean asked.

"Nearly seven," replied Giles. Xander, Willow, and Cordelia had left about an hour earlier. "Why?"

Buffy looked up from the stake she was whittling, concerned, as her brother pulled out his phone and began to place a call. "Sam's been gone for nearly an hour and a half. Doesn't take _that_ long to grab some burgers."

* * *

Spike laughed as loudly as his mangled face would allow. "Are you barking mad? Coming here all by yourself! I didn't realize you had a death wish."

The Judge unfolded his legs and stood to confront the stranger. As tall as the other man was, the demon still topped him by several inches. He peered down, then proclaimed, "You are of my kind."

"You're daft," snorted the vampire. "This is one of the Slayer's gormless brothers."

The Judge pulled away and Sam Winchester gave Spike a smirk. He then purposefully blinked and his eyes filmed over in black.

* * *

 **Acknowledgement** : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episode "Innocence" (BtVS 2.14).

 **Author's Note** : Had some liberties with the Knights of Hell. I was going to eliminate the Judge entirely, maybe make a brand new thingy, but figured this was a better way around it.

There's a weird time discrepancy in "Innocence." Prior to the whole army base scene, Xander tells Willow to meet them in 1/2 an hour. Then Buffy goes to sleep and has her nightmare and the whole Miss Calendar thing happens. _Then_ the army base scene goes on. I just made a slight adjustment so, you know, it doesn't look like Hermione's time-turner was involved.


	23. Book II: Chapter 23

(12/25/2016) Merry Christmas ya filthy animal.

Thank you **RHatch89** , **thedarkpokemaster** , **philly cheese dude** , and **jkmp28** for the reviews! And for Mystery Guest: I'm changing the mythos a bit to make the worlds mash together rather than having them exist side by side. But thank you for the review! And all you favoriters and followers, leave a note and get an ornament!

* * *

"Goddamnit, Sammy, _pick up the phone_!" Dean shouted into the voicemail after the fifth redial brought no results. His hand had fisted into his hair as he paced back and forth.

"What should we do?" Buffy asked her Watcher anxiously.

"I haven't the foggiest," Giles replied. He looked worriedly out at the darkness showing through the library's back windows.

"I'm going," Dean announced. He stormed towards the door.

"Stop!" the Watcher demanded as he placed himself in the hunter's path. "We cannot go out when we don't know where the Judge is going or what he plans. Not to mention it's dark; Angelus and Drusilla could be out there as well!"

"Even more reason to go find our brother!"

"Dean," Buffy said quietly, "Giles is right. At least wait until the others get back."

Both hands now clutching tousled locks, Dean paced a few moments, then furiously acquiesced. "Fine! An hour. Then I'm gone."

* * *

"Well lookee what we have here," said a highly amused Angelus as he emerged from the back room. Drusilla was on his heels. "If it isn't good ol' Sammy!" The renewed killer sniffed curiously. "Huh. Or not."

"Boy," called Drusilla mellifluously. "Precious boy! It isn't time for the concert. You're here quite unfashionably early." She slithered up to Sam and ran her nails down his chest. "Shall we make our own entertainment then?"

The demon riding Buffy's younger brother wrapped his arm around the madwoman's waist and yanked her close. " _We_ could certainly have ourselves one hell of a good time." He leaned in close and Drusilla giggled in anticipation.

Both Angelus and Spike scowled. The former cleared his throat and reached forward to pull (a now disappointed) Drusilla away. When she pouted, the vampire said, "Come on, that just looked wrong, you getting it on with Buffy's _brother_. Speaking of: care to share with the class why you're here?"

"To make sure the Knight is up to date. Figuring he didn't hear much while his head was, quite literally, buried in the dirt."

"Up to date?" Spike asked, confused. "Up to date on what? I thought he was here to destroy the _world_. After that it'll all be bollocked anyways. Might as well just hang on for the ride."

The demon gave the blonde vampire a wry glance then slung an arm around the Judge's shoulders. They turned away and conferred quietly, ignoring the annoyed gazes of the vampires at their back. "Someone's keeping secrets," sang Spike.

"Irritating, bodiless fucks," Angelus muttered.

Abruptly, Drusilla placed both hands on her face and moaned. Their attention caught, the demons turned to see her lean backwards onto the table and curl her knees up to her chest.

"What?" the demon in Sam demanded. It hurried over, the Judge walking sedately behind. "What is it?"

In a mournful tone, Drusilla told him, "He held the letter for one hundred years, but it was wrapped in thorns. It was awfully rude for him not to read it."

"Old news. Tell me something new."

The mad vampire giggled from her fetal position. When Sam's body knelt to look her in the eyes, she reached out and ran a fingertip gently down his nose. "Do you think I'll be invited to the party? It shall be on a Thursday and I may be terribly late."

The demon rolled Sam's eyes and stood. "Anyways," it remarked sardonically, "there's a couple of people here that need to die. Namely the Slayer and her brother, Winchester Smaller."

"Hadn't planned on the Slayer dying _just yet_ ," Angelus smirked. "There's just so much more fun to be had."

Sam nodded approvingly. "Going for the pain instead of the kill? Nice. But I think you can agree with me that Dean needs to go. If anything, it'll be hilarious when poor Buffy and Sammy get all weepy."

"You're wearing the giant one right now," scoffed Spike. "I say we maim _him_ , you smoke out…"

"No."

"Why not?"

The demon gave the crippled vampire a withering look. "I don't answer to _you_. Besides, trust me when I say you'd much rather have _Sam_ Winchester on your ass than _Dean_."

While Spike muttered about "pretty-boy hunters," Angelus scooped Drusilla off of the table and set her on her feet. "I'd love to hang the man from the rafters with his own entrails, but it'd be even better if little Buff' saw it all go down. Got any bright ideas?"

"Yes." The demon smirked. "Bait."

* * *

Willow, Oz, Cordelia, and Xander showed up shortly after the next half hour lugging a box imprinted with lettering that indicated it had been the property of the Army of the United States. While Xander showed Buffy his present, Oz and Dean got to know one another.

"Hey," said Oz.

"Uh, hey," replied Dean.

"So, Buffy's brother, huh?"

"One of 'em, yeah."

"So you already knew about all this stuff?"

"Dad raised us in the life, so yeah. Knew way before Buffy did. You didn't?"

"Just found out."

"And you ain't freaked out?"

"Nah."

Bemused at the laconic teenager, Dean failed to immediately notice the weapon that Xander was hoisting onto his shoulder. When the hunter saw what it was, he was instantly jealous. "Man, she always gets the good toys."

"That's 'cause she's the baby," Willow said with a grin.

"At least I got my own car."

"Oz has his own car!"

"Yeah?" Dean asked the boy interestedly.

"It's a van," Oz answered. "Sometimes it goes backwards _and_ forwards. Even makes turns."

It wasn't hard to see the burgeoning affection in Willow's eyes that was directed at the boy. Dean couldn't help but like him as well; it was a rarity to find someone so nonchalant about discovering that monsters and demons were real. The hunter was more used to the shrieking denials that were part and parcel of rescuing hapless victims.

Xander was apparently showing Buffy how to handle the enormous weapon, an anomalous skill that left her brother perplexed. "Why does the dork know how to use that?"

Willow gave an abbreviated version of Halloween night and the chaos that had ensued because of Ethan Rayne. The selection of everyone's transformations was a little too appropriate. "Oh, that dick," Dean cursed.

"Who?" Willow asked confusedly. "Ethan?"

"Had to be that Trickster." The hunter then gave Willow and Oz his own shortened tales of encountering the malevolent entity at both Wittenberg University, where he and Sam had been slyly turned against one another, and the Broward County Mystery Spot, when Dean had apparently died in every conceivable and inconceivable way.

"A taco?" Oz asked incredulously.

"Freaking poisoned Mexican food. That's what Sam said anyways. Speaking of…" For what felt like the thousandth time, Dean pulled out his phone to see whether or not his brother had called. Surprisingly, he had. "Buffy!" he yelled as he redialed.

The Slayer came hurrying out of Giles' office to join her distraught brother as he paced back and forth. "Is it Sam?" she wondered anxiously.

Dean spared her a nod in the middle of his frantic conversation. "Sammy? Where the hell are you? Are you okay? …Hey hey hey, calm down. Where are you? …All right, don't move. We're on the way." The eldest sibling hung up and told Buffy, "Let's go."

Without question, his sister followed him in rushing for the door. "Hey!" Willow cried. She grabbed for one of their sleeves and ended up with Dean's. "Where are you going?"

The hunter jerked his arm away. "To go help our brother."

"Not alone you aren't! You're running off like… like a running-off kind of person!"

"I agree," said Giles as he emerged from his office. He and Xander were lugging the resealed crate. "At the very least we should be prepared if we encounter the Judge."

"Fine," Dean snarled. "You load up that thing in the van and we are leaving _now_."

"What's the big hurry?" asked Cordelia. "I don't know about you, but I'm not ready to run out and die yet."

Exasperated, Dean threw his hands out and dropped them. "Sam doesn't know where he's been for the past several hours. All he knows is that he's at some place and there's _blood_ on his hands."

"And he's… where?"

"The Bronze."

* * *

When Jo came to she discovered that she was sitting on a cold concrete floor and tied tightly to a support beam in a place she didn't recognize, thankfully unmolested. Her head throbbed where Sam had banged it on the bar counter and there was dried blood at the corner of her mouth. Tonguing her cheek revealed a bloody laceration.

She'd almost been happy to see Sam, hoping maybe that he'd had some good news for once. Instead he'd mocked her attraction to Dean and had insinuated that _he_ was better suited for her attentions. After Jo had rebuffed him… well… The young woman had absolutely no idea what was wrong with Sam Winchester but he had frightened her far worse than any supernatural creature she'd encountered.

The exception was standing before her, smirking.

The Angel that Buffy had introduced to Jo was a gentle, troubled soul that, without a single word, conveyed a deep love and devotion to the Slayer. Jo did her best to see past his vampirism for her friend's sake, but it was difficult to fight against the instincts that she'd developed from her years of being exposed to hunters at the Roadhouse.

Jo's opinion turned for the better once he'd saved the her life twice; once when the single vampire she'd been stalking turned out to have a few friends, and the second when a drunken idiot from the local college tried to assault her on the way home from a shift at The Bronze. She still insisted that she could have taken care of the boy by herself, knife or no knife.

In response, the young woman had developed respect for Angel not only for his fortuitous appearances but for his genuine desire to do _good_. She'd known hunters that came through her mother's bar who were in it for the thrill and the boasting rights. Not so Buffy's vampiric boyfriend.

 _Angelus_ , however…

"You know," the thing said genially, "I really do like blondes. There's just something about them that _tastes_ better." The vampire stepped forward and knelt to better look her in the eye. "Maybe the two of us should have a little fun before the Slayer and her pretty brother try to come to your rescue."

Repulsed, Jo fought the urge to spit in the monster's face as he drew his finger in a repulsively gentle manner down the side of her face. Instead she channeled her mother's best "I ain't puttin' up with no nonsense from you" face and glared defiantly. "Why am I here?"

"You're a backup hostage, Jo-Jo. Just in case Sammy's little ruse goes south."

"You don't really think he can fool his brother and sister in thinking that he's still the same person?"

"I think you're underestimating how blind those three are when it comes to each other. Must have inherited it from John Winchester since I know Joyce isn't _nearly_ that stupid." His face lit up with a hungry grin. "It's why your lovely blonde head is still attached to your body."

"Screw you."

The monster gripped her chin tight and gave her a vampiric snarl. Inadvertently, Jo's terror slipped through and her breath quickened. "So be _good_ ," Angelus admonished, "or I might make a change of plans."

* * *

When the van pulled up on the street before The Bronze its occupants could see a distraught Sam pacing back and forth with his hands stuffed in his armpits. He gave them a panicked glance and approached. Dean and Buffy confronted their brother while the others headed inside. Once his siblings were in hearing range, Sam began a rambling explanation.

"I-I-I don't know how I got here," he stuttered. "Th-There's blood on my hands. Inside, the inside, oh God, it's… it's wrecked and what if I did it? Dean, what if this is what dad was talking about? What if you have to—"

" _That's enough_!" Dean barked. "First things first," he said in a far more gentle manner, "Let's go inside and you go on and get cleaned up."

"Dean," Xander called from the open door of The Bronze, "you're going to want to get in here."

"Come on, Sam," Buffy said gently. She took her brother's hand and led him into the club.

The three entered together and found Buffy's friends clustered at the bar, grim. When Dean hurried over he immediately saw what had gotten their attention. A broken bottle lay shattered on the ground and the glass counter was cracked. Several chairs had been overturned. Blood was spattered about, but fortunately not in a quantity that would have been fatal.

"Jo," Dean surmised. He turned around to see a horrified Sam examining his spattered knuckles.

"Whoever it was isn't here," said Giles practically. He swept his gaze around the room. "Nor is the assailant."

Sam swallowed. "Or maybe—"

"Cut the crap, Sam," interrupted Dean, "it wasn't you, okay? There's gotta be another explanation."

"What if it was? What if this is _exactly_ what dad was trying to warn you about?"

"Not here."

"But—"

"I said, not. _HERE_!"

Upon remembering that they had an audience, Sam quickly stifled his objections. Buffy, however, wasn't about to accept her brothers' sudden reticence. "Oh no you don't," she growled. "What exactly did dad tell you?"

Exasperated, Dean grabbed his siblings' arms and dragged them away from the others. A perturbed Cordelia threw up her arms and let them drop. "Great. A killer unkillable demon went and became besties with a vampire psychopath, and now one of Buffy's brothers is going crazy! Did I miss anything else?"

"I hear there's a new Slurpee flavor," said Oz.

As Buffy's friends tried to uncover anything that might answer the other conundrum, Dean explained their father's deathbed revelation to his sister. When he was done, Buffy glanced back and forth between them disbelievingly. "And you were going to tell me about this when?" she hissed.

"It just slipped my mind," mumbled Dean.

"That's the stupidest excuse in the history of stupid excuses! If dad thought Sam was going to go all Vader on us, don't you think it would've been nice to know?"

"Well it looks like I just did," Sam said despairingly. "Who knows what happened here? Jo could be out there hurt or-or-or dead. Look at my hands!" His voice went suddenly morose. "You promised, Dean. To me and dad, you _promised_."

"No! I didn't—" Recalling that the others could hear, Dean cut himself off. Harshly, he whispered, "Listen to me. We're going to figure this out, okay? There's got to be a way."

"It sure doesn't seem like that, Dean. It feels like no matter what I do, slowly but surely I'm–I'm just becoming—"

"What?"

Sam frowned and glared down at brother. "You know."

"Oh my God," an irritated Buffy sighed. "Don't tell me you _still_ believe in that whole, 'banana eyes meant me to be murder-happy' thing!"

"Why not?" Sam thrust his bloodied hands in his sister's face. "I might have killed Jo! A friend. _Your_ friend." He reached into his jacket for his pistol and stuck it out, handle first, at Dean. "I don't want to hurt anyone else. I don't want to hurt either of you."

"Whoa whoa whoa!" Buffy cried, loud enough to gain her friends' attention. "Put that away _right now_!"

Dean ignored his gaping audience and outraged sister. "You won't," he told his brother quietly. "Whatever this is, you can fight it."

"No," Sam choked out, "I can't. Not forever. You've got to do it. Take the goddamn gun and _shoot me_."

The brothers stared at one another, frozen at a terrible impasse. Silently, the others watched, shocked, as Sam waited for Dean to put an end to his perceived evil. When it became obvious that the eldest of the siblings was going to continue to refuse, the younger brother took matters into his own hands. "Fine," he uttered as he put the barrel to his temple.

"No!" Buffy shrieked as she yanked the gun away from Sam's head. The intended suicide bullet smacked into The Bronze's ceiling and dropped crumbs of drywall down on their heads. Utilizing all her Slayer strength, Buffy then threw the offending weapon as far as she could. It came to a clunky landing somewhere in the far corners of the club.

In a suddenly forbidding manner Sam drew himself up and eyed each one of them maliciously. His vehement glare pierced his brother and then his sister. "You'll regret this," he snarled as he stormed out of the alleyway exit and slammed the door.

Dean immediately moved to follow. He was gently prevented from doing so by Giles. "I'll go," the Watcher offered after placing his hand on the hunter's shoulder. "I don't think your brother is in the mood to see either of you right now."

"Thanks, Jeeves."

After Giles departed, Dean wiped a hand down his face and gave a deep sigh. Troubled, Buffy asked, "Are you okay?"

"No, but I can't do shit about it."

"I'm still mad you two didn't say anything about that."

"Yeah, well, you know, we've been so _open_ with each other _all_ our freaking lives. Not like you haven't kept a secret or two."

"Touché."

* * *

When Sam entered the building, Jo's breath caught in her throat. The cruel smirk on his face was so discordant to his features that she couldn't believe this was the same heart-heavy, well intentioned Sam Winchester she'd met all those months ago.

"So?" Angelus wondered.

"Didn't go nearly as good as I would have hoped," said Sam, "but it's workable." He gave a sharp whistle and a monstrously large bald man, tattooed head to toe in blue whorls, emerged from the shadows.

The newcomer blinked and his eyes went black. "The sinners," growled the demon, "do they come?"

"Packaged with a big ol' bow for the both of you," Sam replied. Jo stiffened as her one-time friend crouched in front of her and gave an ominous grin. "Hi, Jo. Say, I've been meaning to ask: what exactly did your mom tell you about how your dad died?"

When she remained silent, Sam answered his own question. "Let me guess. Poor Billy Harvelle got dangled like meat on a hook, Johnny-boy jumped the gun, and the demon went and had itself a bite of Jo's daddy. Am I right?" He then clucked his tongue. "Not quite."

Jo was startled into responding. "What?"

"Oh. See, it hurt him. It didn't kill him. You and mom don't really know the truth, do you?" Sam grinned as if savoring the memory. "You see, Bill was all clawed up. Was holding his insides in his hands. He was gurgling and _praying_ to see you and Ellen one more time. So my dad killed him. Put him out of his misery like a sick dog."

"You're _lying_ ," Jo said vehemently.

"My daddy shot your daddy in the head," Sam sang.

"Wow," Angelus commented sardonically, "that really is _quite_ the story. But see, your little family to family squabble here isn't producing the blood and tears I was hoping for. Mind telling me what we're doing next?"

"Easy," Sam said pleasantly. "I'm going to call the Slayer and tell her that I'm tragically close to killing two of her friends. When her merry horde arrives, you can do whatever you want. Just make sure Dean's dead by the end of it."

"Wait, what? Two?"

"Oh, I forgot." Sam walked over to the door, jerked it open, and pulled a startled Giles into the room. A stake fell from his hand and clattered onto the floor.

The Watcher struggled furiously against Buffy's younger brother. "You won't get away with this—"

"Rupert, Rupert, Rupert," Sam chastised as two of Angelus' lackeys grabbed the librarian's arms. "Play nice and I _just might_ let you say farewell to your precious Slayer before you die."

* * *

 **Acknowledgement** : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episodes "Innocence" (BtVS 2.14) and "Born Under a Bad Sign" (SPN 2.14).


	24. Book II: Chapter 24

(1/9/2017) Had to fix a couple of plot holes. Forgot that Spike & Co. were holed up in a factory and not a warehouse. Also forgot about the Colt. Fixed that in chapter 22. My bad on both.

Giles and Jo are generally jovial when joking with jerks. Hah! Tongue twisting fun.

Thank you **thedarkpokemaster** , **RHatch89** , **jkmp28** , **philly cheese dude** , **Authoressinhiding** , **InuNekoLexi** , and **Charwolf123** for the reviews! And if you favoriters and followers leave a little note, you get some of the California rain!

* * *

As they were leaving The Bronze (after realizing that their endeavor of trying to find clues to Jo's whereabouts was fruitless), Buffy's phone rang. Her eyes widened at the caller ID. "Sam?"

The others came to an abrupt halt as Buffy took the call. "We're still here …It's okay, I know, I underst— …What? …Just walk away, okay? Don't do anything! …I don't know! Sit on your hands or something! …Where are you _exactly?_ …Okay, we'll be right there." Buffy snapped her phone shut. "Sam blacked out again. He's got Jo _and_ Giles tied up in a warehouse. Dean, he thinks he might kill them."

"Sammy, Goddamnit," Dean muttered. "Let's go."

Xander planted himself in front of the siblings with his palms out. "Whoa, whoa!"

"Get out of my way, kid," snarled Dean.

"Just hear me out, okay?" When Buffy's eldest brother pulled his handgun and pointed it at the boy, hammer cocked, Xander added, "And afterwards, get me some new underwear."

"Dean," Buffy cautioned. Her brother dropped his arm.

"Look," Xander continued, "the _exact_ same time that Angel goes all Dark Side, Sam does too? Doesn't that seem a _little_ too coincidental to anyone?"

"Hey, yeah," Willow said as comprehension dawned upon her. "I mean, unless there's some big ol' bad guy making thingie going around shoving evil down everyone's throats—"

"Fuck!" Dean suddenly cursed. He blasted out a few more obscenities before denting the side of a trash bin with his foot.

"Feel better?" Buffy asked irritably.

"Yes," her brother replied. "I know what's wrong with Sam."

* * *

Giles fought to open his eyes. His face was throbbing where Sam had struck it and he assumed that a spectacular bruise was blossoming on his cheek. When his vision finally cleared he was met with the sight of a tattooed hand reaching for his chest. The Watcher recoiled and found himself unable to move past a few inches; his arms were bound tightly behind him and his back had been pressed against a scratchy wooden post.

"Hey!" shouted a disturbingly familiar voice. "Hands off dinner."

The man reaching for Giles blinked, his eyes going black. So. This must be the Judge. The Watcher racked his brain for any small detail in the tomes he'd read that pertained to the demonic Knight hoping that there was anything that had mentioned a weakness of some sort. Nothing, unfortunately, came to mind.

"Sinners such as this belong in Hell," growled the Judge as he straightened. "It is the will of God that I bring souls down for divine punishment."

Angelus rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, you take this one too early and Buffy doesn't get to watch. So _wait_." The Judge scowled and walked regally away.

"Can't blame him," came the voice of Sam Winchester. "I mean, you said he fried a couple of your vamps, but how long has it been since he got a genuine _human_ soul to mess with?"

As Sam and Angelus merrily speculated over what sorts of tortures the librarian would have to endure in Hell, Giles felt a finger brush his wrist. Had he not already been frightened nearly witless he would have screamed. "Giles?"

It was Jo. "Oh, thank heaven," the Watcher breathed. "I'm so glad you're alive."

"Yeah, but for how much longer?"

"Long enough," Angelus said, almost pleasantly. He crouched in front of the Watcher and gave him a smirk. "Hey, Giles. How you doing, huh?" At his victim's obstinance, the vampire patted the man's cheek. It would have been a gentle gesture if the creature had not been striking the same area that Sam had so recently acquainted with his fist. Giles was unable to stifle a gasp at the pain.

"Leave him alone!" Jo cried.

"Aw, don't be so impatient Jo-Jo. You'll get yours soon enough."

Furious, Giles made a desperate attempt to free himself. The lasciviousness of Angelus' threat was blatant. Watchers who had recorded the vampire's proclivities as he'd cut a terrifying swath through Europe were clear that many of his female victims had been subject to much more than mere death. One such example was leering madly several feet away.

"Do you like doggies?" Drusilla asked Jo. "I keep hearing them growl." She gave a gruff of her own before smiling maliciously at the blonde young woman. "They don't like _you_ , not at all."

Most of Drusilla's ramblings could be passed off as the machinations of a shattered mind, but this statement had Sam snapping his gaze towards her and narrowing his eyes. In an attempt to cover his trepidation with bravado, Giles calmly threw at the madwoman, "I fail to find any significance in your lunatic ravings."

With preternatural speed Drusilla was in front of him, her face demonically warped. She gripped Giles' chin and let out the animalistic snarl the creatures were uniquely capable of as she wrenched the Watcher's head to one side. Gleefully and gracefully Drusilla snaked in and ran her fangs in an almost sensual manner over his neck.

Giles struggled futilely against his bonds and cursed at her, "Get off me, you bloody—ahh!"

Drusilla's grip had tightened. Giles could feel his teeth crowding and crunching together. "Do you want to know a secret?" she purred into the Watcher's ear. "No matter what they do, the righteous man shall die. Screaming. Bleeding. Terrified."

The mad vampire leaned away, her face reverted to that of the beautiful human girl she'd once been. She stood and spun girlishly into Sam's arms. As Drusilla lured Buffy's younger brother into an impromptu ballroom waltz, Giles spun her words in his head over and over in an attempt to make sense of her disjointed ramblings. Dogs. The righteous man. A horrific death. Dogs. The righteous man.

Suddenly it clicked. Giles felt the horror set deeply into his bones. He was unable to keep it from his face.

And when his reaction was spotted by the malevolent couple whirling about in a stately manner, their laughter filled the room.

* * *

The van screeched to a halt in front of the warehouse Sam had directed them to. Its occupants spilled forth and peered about. Faded signs told passerby that it had once been a storage facility for the local cannery. Poor management and the subsequent closing of its parent business had led to the building's current derelict state.

Buffy frowned up at the washed out lettering on the door. "Same company as the factory."

"At least we know we're in the right place," said Xander. "Where do you want your gift?"

"Get it ready and have it close by." She looked worriedly at her friends and then at her brother. "I don't want you guys in there."

"Fine by me," said Cordelia.

"But why?" asked Willow.

"Oh, don't give me any of this crap," Dean groused. "You really think you'll be walking out of there if you go in alone?"

" _You_ most of all shouldn't go," Buffy shot back. "Dean, if you get killed—"

"For fuck's sake!" her brother shouted as he loomed over her. "I could have died a dozen times before now on the road and I'm _still_ standing. Sammy's in there, so cut the shit and let's get on with the rescue."

Buffy considered kicking Dean in the shin. That was always the best way to respond to her eldest brother's outbursts. However, the strength of the kick she wanted to bestow might cripple him and that just wouldn't do with a battle ahead. With great aplomb she spun on her heel and stalked towards the warehouse entrance.

Upon arrival the Slayer looked about and found a metal staircase off to one side. The door up top was, presumably, locked. "Dean," she whispered, "unlock that and see what's in there." Her brother gave a curt nod and stole quickly and quietly up the steps. As he worked, Buffy risked sidling over to a window and peeping in.

From what she could see Giles and Jo were on the floor bound on opposite sides of the same support beam. The glass was too warped to discern their exact condition, but when Jo shifted her leg Buffy gave a small sigh of relief. Giles was most definitely still alive as well; Buffy was well versed in his body language. Right now, the stiffness of his neck and spine spoke of contempt.

The objects of the Watcher's scorn were chatting casually across from him. Sam was sitting on a storage crate while Angelus whispered in his ear. The two of them burst into depraved laughter a moment later. Buffy's heart broke a little as she listened; neither the man she loved nor the brother she adored had ever sounded so malicious.

"Hey," Dean whispered as he approached at a crouch. "Door's unlocked. Second floor's a balcony that goes all the way around."

"Perfect."

* * *

The double doored entryway to the warehouse banged open. A stake wielding Buffy and a gun toting Dean marched in determinedly, their sights directly on Sam and the serrated blade he held. The middle sibling's face contorted in anguish as he brandished his weapon towards his brother and sister. "I begged you to stop me, Dean!" Sam cried. "Now two of our friends are going to die because you couldn't do what was necessary!"

"Put the knife down, damnit!" Dean barked. He pointed the barrel of his pistol at his brother.

Buffy was immediately on alert once she realized that the vampires and the Judge were nowhere to be found. Deeply apprehensive, she nudged her brother's foot with her own in order to catch his attention.

Sam, however, monopolized both of his siblings' attention when he loudly proclaimed, "I told you I can't fight it! Who's going to die next because of me? Bobby? _Joyce?_ Kill me, or I'm going to kill someone. Please," he moaned, tears in his eyes, "You'd be doing me a favor. Shoot me." Sam spread his arms and walked towards Dean. " _Shoot me_!"

Seemingly horrified by the prospect, the eldest brother stepped back and lowered his gun. Sam continued walking forward… and was suddenly inundated by a deluge from above. He howled as if burned, and when he snapped his gaze back up to his siblings his eyes had filmed over with black.

Grimly satisfied that his suspicions had been confirmed, Dean snarled, "That's holy water, you demonic son of a bitch!"

After jerking unnaturally, Sam bared his teeth at his brother. When he lifted his hand, ostensibly to utilize some infernal power, another bucketful of holy water rained down.

Blinded, the demon in Sam couldn't see Dean rushing over to free Giles and Jo. He was also unable to prevent Buffy from landing a flying spin kick on his chin.

As the Slayer distracted her younger brother by pummeling him, Dean swiftly sawed through the ropes constraining their captured friends. "He was possessed?" Jo asked incredulously.

Absorbed by the strange look he was getting from Giles, Dean failed to answer. The young woman forgave his rudeness a moment later when she spotted the Judge cresting a stack of shipping containers. Angelus and Drusilla flanked him, both grinning in gleeful anticipation of what was to come.

With a broad gesture, Buffy, along with Giles and Jo, was swept away from Sam. The three went flying across the room, landing heavily on the floor near the warehouse entrance. The Judge waved his hand again and Dean was lifted from his feet and rammed into a wall.

Dazed by the impact, the hunter was taken by surprise when Sam's fist crashed into his cheek. Another blow followed. And another. And another.

As Sam mercilessly beat on his brother, a third deluge rained down upon the Judge and his two vampiric attendants. Angelus and Drusilla cried out and fled as their flesh sizzled, but the Judge merely winced before setting his gaze upwards at the source of the liquid armament.

"Uh-oh," Willow murmured. Oz pulled her aside as the Judge flung one of the shipping crates at their perch. The couple, along with a shrieking Cordelia, fled for the exit.

A crossbow quarrel imbedded into the Judge's shoulder. Contemptuously, the demon pulled it free and set his now black eyes on Buffy. "You are a fool. No weapon forged can stop me."

"That was then," said the Slayer as she dropped the crossbow and hoisted the rocket launcher that Xander had carefully set behind her. "This is now."

Upon seeing the weapon Angelus grabbed a wailing Drusilla and sprinted for the back exit. The Judge, however, frowned in confusion as Buffy primed and aimed. "What's _that_ do?"

The Slayer fired.

The impact made the entire building shudder, and the ensuing fires were immediately doused by the automatic sprinkler system. All that remained of the Judge were chunks of tattooed flesh strewn liberally about the room.

Dean was given a momentary reprieve as the explosion caused Sam to stumble. The hunter made a a weak attempt to stand as the demon caustically said down at him, "You know when people want to describe the worse possible thing? They say it's like Hell. You know there's a reason for that. Hell is like, um…" Sam struck Dean again. "Well, it's like _Hell_. Even for demons." The hunter found himself being lifted into the air by his lapels. "It's a prison, made of bone and flesh and blood and fear. And _you_ sent me back there."

"Meg," Dean growled in recognition.

"No, now I'm Sam." The demon wrapped one and then the other of Dean's brother's hands around the hunter's neck and squeezed. "You know, whatever I do to you, it's nothing compared to what you do to yourself, is it?" Sam grinned cruelly. "I can see it in your eyes, Dean. You're _worthless_. You couldn't save your dad, you couldn't save your brother, and you won't be able to save your sister."

"Who says I need saving?"

Sam whirled around and his face met Buffy's fist. He dropped Dean, who fell hard on his side, and went staggering into a crate. The demon grinned as he regained his feet, his eyes going black. "The Slayer a Winchester. Who would have thought it was possible?"

"Well, seeing as how I'm a _Summers_ I get how that might be confusing."

"You might think you're different from them, but you're not. You've got the same the same stupid urge to be a hero, the same willingness to sacrifice yourself for your pathetic family, and you're going to end the same: young and bloody."

"You done talking?" Buffy asked, annoyed. She pulled a damp slip of paper from her pocket and began chanting. "Because now it's my turn to speak. _Exorcizamus te, Omnis Immundus Spiritus, Omnis Satanica Potestas…_ "

The demon twitched unnaturally. He bared his teeth in a snarl and reached into Sam's jacket to withdraw a blade. Already wary, Buffy prepared to leap out of the way but found the knife thrown past her. When she whipped around she found Dean leaning against a support beam with the blade buried in his belly. He slid down while clutching the wound, his back against the wood.

Buffy's instinctive desire to go to his side was stymied when her other brother let out a hoarse scream. Horrified, she watched a plume of black smoke stream from his mouth, swirl about in the wet air, and fly out the door. Sam then fell back onto the crates and was still.

Satisfied that nothing more untoward was going to happen to her younger brother, Buffy rushed over to help Dean. His expression of disbelief was blurred by the bruises and lacerations on his face. "Dean?" Buffy asked worriedly. "Dean? Say something!"

"Ow," her brother managed to drag out.

Sam came hurrying over, terror and confusion writ large in his eyes. "What the hell is going on?" he knelt down and catalogued Dean's injuries. "Oh God."

With a surge of strength the eldest sibling took one blood smeared fist and planted a right hook on his brother's face. Sam fell backwards and palmed his cheek, dumbfounded, as Dean finally succumbed to his injuries.

Sam fumbled inside his jacket pocket for his phone and found that it had fallen victim to the sprinklers. "Mine works," Buffy said when she checked her own. "I'm going outside. Don't go anywhere," she ordered vehemently.

Sam nodded gravely as Buffy ran for the exit. She dialed 911 as she went and gave the operator a half-concocted explanation of the events leading to Dean's injuries. A quiet chuckle came from behind as she snapped her phone closed. The Slayer spun towards the sound and a fist cracked against her cheek.

Leering, Angelus stalked a few steps away as Buffy staggered. "You know what the worst part was?" the vampire spat. "Pretending I loved you. If I'd known how easily you'd give it up, I wouldn't have bothered."

Buffy pulled herself up and glared vehemently. "That doesn't work anymore. You're _not_ Angel."

"You'd like to think that, wouldn't you? Doesn't matter. The important thing is," he added mockingly, "you made me the man I am today."

Angelus followed his triumphant declaration with a punch straight at Buffy's nose. She ducked and leaned, then planted a punch of her own into the monster's jaw. He reeled backwards and the Slayer had the perfect moment to reach into her jacket for her stake, dust him, and end the madness… and she couldn't.

No matter what he said or what he did, Angelus wore Angel's face. And she still loved him, God help her.

The vampire realized the reason behind Buffy's hesitation at the same time that she did. With renewed vigor, Angelus let loose a bestial snarl and rushed at her. He managed to grab a fistful of her damp lapels and throw her as far as his preternatural strength would allow.

Buffy's back hit hard against the chain link fence that surrounded the property before she dropped to the ground. She reached out and locked her fingers into the crisscrossing metal as Angelus swaggered towards her.

"Not quitting on me already, are you?" the vampire wondered arrogantly. "Come on, Buffy. You know you _want_ it."

Incensed, the Slayer ignored the cuts she earned from slivers of jutting metal and used her handhold to shove herself to her feet. She immediately spun and kicked the unprepared vampire in the chest. The resulting few reeling steps backwards gave Buffy enough time to give Angelus a jaw-cracking right hook. She followed it up by grabbing a large handful of his hair and smashing his face into the warehouse wall.

The vampire groaned before flopping over and shaking his head. Buffy finally drew her stake… and hesitated once again.

Malevolently amused, Angelus gave a short chuckle. "You can't do it," he taunted. "You can't kill me."

With great vengeance the Slayer lifted not her stake, but her foot, and stomped down on the vampire's genitals.

"Give me time," Buffy said quietly.

* * *

 **Acknowledgement** : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episodes "Innocence" (BtVS 2.14) and "Born Under a Bad Sign" (SPN 2.14).


	25. Book II: Chapter 25

(1/24/2017) Ugh, why haven't we found the cure for the common cold yet? Someone get on that, chop chop!

 **Note** : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episode "Born Under a Bad Sign" (SPN 2.14).

Thank you **thedarkpokemaster** , **RHatch89** , **lilnudger82** , **philly cheese dude** , **missmeow1968** , and **jkmp28** for the reviews! And all you favoriters and followers get spoonfuls of honey!

* * *

 _January 22, 2007_

* * *

Dean hadn't caught any fish, but he was enjoying himself nonetheless. There were cold beers in the cooler beside him, the breeze and the sun were collaborating just right to create the perfect temperature, and the birds were beeping cheerfully nearby.

Beeping?

Ah well, whatever. Birds made weird noises sometimes.

With a contented sigh, Dean reached into his cooler. Instead of grabbing a beer, however, he knocked the container into the lake. He stood up to retrieve it, grumbling obscenities the entire time. When Dean knelt down to see where it had gone, he caught sight of his reflection.

His eyes were _black_.

* * *

Dean woke with a jerk that caused pain to rip up his abdomen. The incessant beeping had evidently been a heart monitor. Its pace was slowing as he recovered from his nightmare.

The hunter took a moment to catalogue his injuries. Big fat bandage on his belly, some on his face, and gauze covering one eye. That would explain the lack of depth perception. Various bruises but no broken bones. He glanced up at the bags of fluid feeding into his hand and assumed they were important, but if one of them held painkillers it was being stupidly ineffective.

A look around the room revealed Sam's oversized form sprawled awkwardly in a padded chair. In another curled Buffy's far more compact one. The light seeping in through the blinds was bright enough to be day which meant the two idiots had probably stayed up the entire night watching him.

Dean risked a small sigh and let his head flop back onto his pillow. He'd been so ready to die, so absolutely ready to just go on like he was supposed to have done in that car crash all those months ago, but now that he knew what awaited him…

It wasn't Hell itself that bothered him. Dean had known what the penalty was going to be for his deal. Fire and brimstone, torture for eternity; _that_ he'd been prepared for. To eventually come back as a demon, however, as one of those assholes he and the rest of his family had spent their lives trying to destroy, _that_ was unbearable.

Despair washed over him. Bobby had nothing. The Watcher had nothing. The so-called benevolent demon had nothing. Out there in the big wide world there was most likely… nothing.

"Dean, you're up! How do you feel?"

Crap. Sam. Way too intuitive, much too observant Sam. Time to smile. "Like shit."

"Yeah, that was a stupid question."

"What the fuck happened to you?"

Chagrined, Sam rubbed the back of his head and looked away. "Honestly, I'm not completely sure. I got the food, was heading back to the car, then nothing."

Dean finally found something amusing about the whole situation. His hoarse chuckle caused Sam to move from contrite to irritated. "What?"

"Dude. You, like, full on had a girl inside you for like a whole day." Dean managed to snicker a bit more before his wounds made it too painful. "That's pretty naughty."

* * *

Apparently while Buffy was embroiled in a fight with Angelus, Ruby had arrived with the boxes she promised; around two dozen metal hinged rectangles resembling jewelry keepers that had been inscribed with both magical sigils and devil's traps. They then stuffed as much of the damp pieces of the Judge as possible within them and left the rest in a shipping crate. Before vanishing, Ruby reclaimed the boxes and said some were going into the Sahara and the rest into the Mariana Trench.

Xander and Oz left shortly afterwards in order to return the rocket launcher (their plan to do so without being caught was vague at best; it almost sounded as if they'd intended to just toss the box over the fence) which meant that Sam was the only one left to drive everyone else home. When he objected to Buffy staying alone with Dean, she pointed out that in no circumstances would the eldest brother allow anyone but Sam drive the Impala, particularly without permission.

Fortunately the emergency responders arrived after the others had driven off and they were too concerned with Dean's injuries to ask questions. Sam joined Buffy at the hospital after his errand. The two of them then, as their elder brother had assumed, eschewed sleep until the doctors assured them that Dean would (eventually) be fine.

Upon receiving word that Dean was conscious, the doctor came by to check in on his patient. When he informed the siblings that the eldest of them might have to stay for possibly two weeks or more, all three nodded and commiserated. As soon as he was gone, Dean promptly stated, "Nope. Not gonna happen."

"I don't know, Dean," Sam said doubtfully. His brother scowled.

Buffy, however, gave him her most frighteningly sweet smile. "Sure. Just get on your feet and we'll head out."

Determinedly, Dean slid one leg towards the side of the bed. That was as far as he got before his eyes widened in alarm. Smugly, Buffy wondered, "Problem?"

"Dean," Sam said cautiously, "if you're in too much pain—"

"That ain't it!" their brother snapped.

Sam and and his sister exchanged puzzled glances before focusing back on Dean. "Then what is it?" asked Buffy.

The eldest of them brought his leg back to its previous position. He squirmed a bit before mumbling, "I'll stay for now."

"Why the change of heart?" asked Sam.

"Because I'm hooked up to a freaking catheter, _alright?_ Unless one of you…"

"No," Dean's brother stated firmly.

" _Hell_ no," his sister added.

* * *

Dean ended up stuck for at least the next few hours. He was unable to charm, annoy, or threaten a nurse into removing the offending item from his genitalia. Each attempt caused his siblings to fall further and further into hysterics until he threatened to shave both of them bald if they didn't shut up and go away.

As they were exiting the hospital, Buffy got a text. "Giles wants to see us in the library."

"He knows how to text?"

"Nah, it's from Willow. Who is apparently getting all my homework for me. Yippee."

Sam unlocked the Impala and they sat inside. "Won't you get in trouble for skipping out?"

"Mom called and told them what happened. Sort of."

"Speaking of," said Sam as he started the engine, "what did you tell _her?_ "

"Mugger. Dean was stupid. The usual."

The pair rode in silence for several blocks. Finally, as they were approaching the high school, Sam asked, "Are you ever going to tell her?"

"Tell her what, who, huh?"

"Your mom. Are you ever going to tell her what's really going on?"

As the Impala came to a halt, Sam looked at his sister expectantly. Buffy lifted her eyebrows in response. "Would you?"

Sam sighed. "It was different with us. Dad was, you know, the beginning of it all anyways. Plus we never stayed long enough anywhere for it to be an issue. Buffy, you live here now and you're not going anywhere anytime soon. She's got to know _something's_ up."

"I know, I know. It's just…" Buffy let out a sigh of her own. "What if she can't take it? What if it freaks her out so much that she wants me gone?"

"You really think that would happen?" her brother scoffed.

"Who knows. It's not like there's the Dummies Guide to Telling Your Mom You Kill Monsters or anything."

The two checked for Snyder, got the all clear, and hurried to the library. When they entered, they found Giles doing an amazingly normal librarian task: helping a student find a non-supernatural related book. The Watcher gave them a significant glance before returning to his duties.

Sam and Buffy sat at the center table to wait. "What do you think this is about?" Sam wondered quietly.

"Dunno. But I _do_ know Giles faces. Whatever it is isn't good."

They waited patiently for the librarian for complete the transaction. When the girl finally left, he approached. The grave expression on his face was obvious even to Sam.

"I finally received a call from the Council this morning regarding Kendra," the Watcher said gently. "Buffy, your friend was killed the day she left."

" _What?_ " the Slayer exclaimed.

"Her next two successors were found murdered as well: a Shawna McAdams from Cleveland and a Kiko Munekawa in Kyoto. For safety reasons it has been decided that the identity of the _next_ Slayer will be kept secret from anyone other than her Watcher. Not even the Council knows who she is, only that she's been called."

"Holy crap," Sam gasped. "What happened?"

Giles gave a heavy sigh. "Both Shawna and Kiko had their throats cut. Both of their Watchers had been killed alongside them. Kendra… are you certain you want to hear this?"

"Yes," Buffy answered firmly.

"She was found at the airport, her throat also cut. The difference was that they also found a flight attendant nearby, exsanguinated."

"Vampire," Sam inferred.

"Couldn't have been Angelus," mused Buffy. "We hadn't… he hadn't come back. It had to be Drusilla."

"You sure?"

Buffy nodded at her brother. "No one else knew the second Slayer was Kendra. We don't even know if Spike survived and I guarantee you the other idiots wouldn't have had the balls."

Sam lifted his eyebrows at his sister's use of Bobby's favorite colloquialism. Her Watcher seemed equally flustered. "Regardless of their-their lack of… um… _enthusiasm_ , I agree. That still leaves the fact that Shawna and Kiko were _not_ killed by vampires. That makes three Slayers dead within a matter of weeks. It's unprecedented."

"Someone's out there murdering them," Sam said.

"Then why am I still alive?" asked Buffy.

"I'm not sure," Giles replied.

"Wait," Sam said cautiously, "the Slayer gets called immediately after the previous one dies, right?"

"That's correct."

"And it just keeps going and going no matter how short a time they've been, you know, super powered?"

"Yes." Giles frowned pensively. "Are you saying…?"

"I think someone's knocking off Slayers until someone specific gets called. Like, someone that they _want_ to be the Slayer for whatever reason." Sam's eyes widened. "Dad! Down in the Master's lair! He said he was there because yellow-eyes had some plan, that Buffy had to die so it could go forward."

"It's… possible," the Watcher responded hesitantly.

"Then why am I still here?" Buffy wondered again. "Wouldn't they go through girls twice as fast if they went at it two at a time?"

Sam shrugged and shook his head. "No idea."

"Haven't the foggiest," Giles added. "I suppose we should just count our good fortune."

Buffy gave an exhausted sigh. "Well, I'm tired. Like, _beyond_ a triple caramel mocha tired." She turned towards her brother. "Can you drive me home?"

"Sure."

* * *

It turned out that Sam was just as worn out by the previous few days as his sister. While Buffy thankfully fell into her own bed, Sam, with Jo's blessing, collapsed onto the second twin mattress in the guest room.

With the exception of Joyce, the current inhabitants of the Summers household found themselves trying their best to recuperate from the physical and mental battering of the past few days. Jo spent a good amount of time staring at Sam's back. It was one thing to _tell_ herself that the manhandling she'd received hadn't been purposefully done; that it had been the fault of the demon that had swept down his throat. It was another to be in Sam's presence and to pretend that everything was all right.

Jo was slowly coming to the realization that her mother's attempt to protect her, as overbearing and unnecessary at it had seemed, had come from a place of ignorance and fear. Now that she knew what had truly conspired in the last moments of Bill Harvelle's life it might be time to return home. At least there she'd be granted the reprieve to digest her kidnapping and assault without having its perpetrators thrown in her face day after day. Decision made, Jo finally drifted off to sleep.

As soon as her breathing turned even and restful, Sam carefully rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. He'd felt Jo's eyes burning into his back and the guilt was eating him up terribly. Stupid of him to get caught so easily like that. There had to be some sort of sigil or spell or _something_ to prevent it from happening again. Giles would know. They'd need to get it done before they left Sunnydale so that Buffy and her gang would have the same protection available.

Flashes of the previous day kept coming to him. He felt himself pressing Jo to the bar with his body, the intent of the demon clear, before it changed its mind and smashed her head into the glass. Even then it had given thought to violating the unconscious girl just so that Sam would have to endure the consequences. He supposed that whatever sliver of humanity remained in it had decided to spare another female that singular indignity.

Meg. He remembered now. Dean had called it _Meg_. Talk about mistakes coming around to bite.

That was it. Sleep was out of the question. Sam slid out of bed and headed into the hallway. A delicate sniffle drifted out from his sister's room.

Buffy was doing her best not to think about Angel, but it was impossible. This wasn't how things were supposed to go. After making love for the first time there should be secret talks with girlfriends and intimate touches from the boyfriend and the feeling that an important milestone had been reached. Instead Buffy was being forced to contend with an ocean of despair, anger, and regret. She supposed that if things had gone _normally_ wrong she'd be feeling the same, only she truly doubted any other jilted girl had to deal with a revived homicidal psychopathic vampire.

The problem was Buffy couldn't kill him. Even away from the battle, here in the realm of supposition, she couldn't do it. Inside Angelus there had to be her Angel, she was sure. Selfish though it might be, Buffy couldn't think past her love to act for the greater good.

"Buffy?" Sam called quietly. He sat on her bed as she turned over, eyes brimming with tears.

"It's my fault," she whispered. "How could I have been so _stupid?_ "

Sam patted her gently and sighed. "I thought it was my fault, too, when Jessica died, and-and it tuned out it sort of was. But Buffy, neither of us could have known."

"Does that make it better?"

"No. But it'll help us endure."

Buffy curled up tighter under her comforter. "What am I going to do?"

"You'll live. You'll go to school, you'll do your Slayer thing, and you'll have fun with your friends. If you don't, if you just give up, then the bad guys win."

With a wry smile, Buffy sat up. "Can't have that, can we?"

Sam gave her a smile of his own. "No, we can't."

"How long are you guys going to stay?"

"We need to go soon," Sam said regretfully. "There's a hunt we need to do that's sort of on a timetable and if we miss it then we have to wait a whole year to try again."

"Wow. I didn't think monsters had scheduled visits."

"It's a ghost actually. Might be revenants. Pair of them, we think. We're going to have to see."

Buffy reached over and gave her brother a hug. "I'm going to miss you guys. Like always."

Sam squeezed her in return. "I know. We'll be back, promise."

"Both of you?"

After swallowing a rising tide of fear, Sam nodded. "Dean isn't going to Hell."

"Or if he is," Buffy added as she leaned away, "it'll be for what he's supposed to go for: lust and violence." She ran her fingers through her hair as she then asked, "Hey, you never did explain why you were late for my birthday."

Sam wiped a hand down his face. "Shit, I forgot. Buffy, there's a virus out there, demonic virus, and it's incurable far as we can tell. They call it Croatoan. It makes people violent, like, homicidal violent. All it takes is one drop of blood and you're infected. Buffy," her brother cautioned as he grasped her shoulders, "if it comes here, _run_. If it gets one of your friends, if it gets to your _mother_ , kill them right away."

"Okay," Buffy replied, taken aback, "don't, like, sugar coat it or anything."

"I'm sorry, but really, it's _that_ bad. Whole town was wiped off the map except for maybe us and a handful of people."

Buffy frowned deeply at her brother. "Not that I'm complaining, but how did you two manage to get out?"

"Almost didn't," Sam said. He put both feet on the ground and placed his elbows on his knees. "Buffy, I'm immune. What yellow-eyes did to me, it made me immune to a _demonic virus_. How fucked up is that?" Before his sister could react, he continued to rant. "And Dean wouldn't put me down! I remember, you know, asking him yesterday, and he wouldn't do it! Why? Why can't he see that it might be better if I weren't here?"

"Sam," Buffy replied wearily, "don't. Okay? Just… we're family, right? No matter what, that's just not something family does."

Sam linked his fingers together and gripped tight. His knuckles whitened. "Buffy. Promise me. If something happens and I turn out like Angel, you'll finish me off."

" _Excuse_ me?"

"Dean won't do it. He'll _never_ do it. Please. Don't let me hurt anyone else."

"No." When Sam gave her an outraged glower, Buffy scoffed, "I couldn't even kill my killer boyfriend. What makes you think I could kill my _brother?_ You want promises like that, you go looking somewhere else."

At first Sam was inclined to argue. Then he realized the futility of the attempt and tossed it aside. "Okay, okay," he conceded. "Anyways, I better try and get a nap in at least. Much as he'll want to, I really doubt Dean will be able to drive.

As her brother headed back to the guest room, Buffy squished back into her mattress and buried herself into her comforter. Nothing Sam said had been particularly comforting, nor had they worked through any plausible solutions to their dilemmas, but for some reason she felt better all the same. She waited for several minutes and was happy to hear her brother's quiet snores coming from the other room.

Sam's road was turning dark, but for now Buffy would take heart in the fact that the three of them still had each other. She snuggled down and several seconds later was fast asleep.

* * *

Buffy was walking into a graveyard, and by the sunlight pouring down on the vampires in attendance she knew that this was another Slayer dream. This time, however, the grave was far from empty. This time, she knew that it was _Dean_ in that coffin.

Someone placed a hand on her shoulder and spoke in her ear. The language was unfamiliar, and the words pierced her ears, but the sentiment was clear. They were trying to console her, to tell her that it was all for the best. It just made her angry.

Buffy turned to confront them and her eyes _burned_.

* * *

With a shriek she bolted upright from her pillow and clutched her eyes. Her mother was there a few moments later. "Buffy! Are you all right?"

Sam rushed in a second later as she was saying, "Fine, I'm fine. Sorry, bad dream."

Joyce rubbed her daughter's back gently. "Well, no wonder with all the trouble that's been going on."

"Speaking of," said Sam as he looked at his phone, "I need to go pick up Dean. Apparently he's releasing himself from the hospital."

"He'll be okay then?"

"He always is. We'll probably be heading out right after. Got a job waiting for us in Nevada."

"Well, all right." Joyce stood and gave Sam a hug and a matronly peck on the cheek. "Tell that brother of yours to take better care of himself, okay?"

"Like he ever listens to me," Sam replied jokingly. He returned her affections and she left the room. When he gave his sister an expectant look, she shrugged.

"Like I said," Buffy clarified, "bad dream."

"Yeah, okay."

Buffy ignored her brother's disbelief and bounded out of bed. She wrapped her arms around his chest and gave him her own squeeze in farewell. "Tell Dean if he gets himself killed before we can save him I'll murder him."

Sam kissed the top of her head and ruffled the blonde locks. "I'll make sure he gets the message. You tell us if things get too much around here and we'll be here as fast as we can."

"I know. Thanks, Sam."


	26. Book II: Chapter 26

(2/10/2017) Sorry this is so short, but the next chapter is already underway soooooo… forgive me?

I was initially planning on ending this fic (in, like, two hundred years at this pace) at the end of SPN season 11 but the recent episode is making me reconsider. It would just be too fun to write something up for Dean's whole Memento thing :D Then again, I've no idea what to do with the whole BtVS season 8 thing. I could use some suggestions!

Thank you **RHatch89** , **thedarkpokemaster** , **jkmp28** , and **Theayonder** for the reviews! And thank you Theayonder for pointing out a mistake! Oopsies. And all you favoriters and followers get blown kisses!

* * *

 _February 2007_

* * *

 **The Sunnydale Press**

Park rangers are on the lookout for what might be a stray wolf that has strayed within city limits.

The bodies of several small animals have been discovered in and around Sunnydale Public Park and Recreation Area (located on the north end of town). The country club and golf course have been closed until further notice. Residents are advised to lock up any small pets until the animal in question has been contained.

If you or anyone you know finds the animal, please seek shelter immediately and call 911.

* * *

( _Text conversation between Sam Winchester and Buffy Summers_ )

SAM: Hey Buffy

BUFFY: Hey, gigantor. What's up? Where are you guys?

SAM: Albany. Hey, Gordon Walker's dead

BUFFY: Wacko hunter? What happened

SAM: Got turned. Tried to gank me

BUFFY: WTF? Why?

SAM: Long story short, thought I was evil. Bela told him where I was, the bitch

BUFFY: What is wrong with that woman

SAM: I dunno

BUFFY: We had a hunter here too going after werewolves. Oz is one. Don't tell Dean

SAM: Is he going to be okay?

BUFFY: He's fine. What's with the freak out?

SAM: Remind me to tell you about Madison

BUFFY: Uh, okay

SAM: Why don't you want Dean to know?

BUFFY: Because I don't want him killing my friend!

SAM: I'll make sure he won't. Better he knows before he does it by mistake

BUFFY: Fine. Your fault then if something happens

* * *

( _Phone call from ? to Bela Talbot_ )

BELA: H-Hello?

?: You have two days. Then the hounds come.

BELA: ( _harsh whisper_ ) Who is this? What do you want?

?: She's willing to make you a deal. Your soul for Sam Winchester.

BELA: No! No no no! I gave her the Colt! You already agreed to—

?: Shit's changed.

BELA: ( _sobbing_ ) That's not _fair_.

?: ( _derisive laugh_ ) So? We've got you by the tits, dear Bela. Either kill Sam Winchester or get ready for that one way trip downstairs.

BELA: ( _quietly_ ) All right.

?: Excuse me? I couldn't quite hear you.

BELA: I said, all right! I'll do it.

?: Thanks, darling. We're even giving you a little extension on your deal just because we're nice. You've got a week.

BELA: It's… appreciated.

?: It better be. Looking forward to hearing the good news.

* * *

POLICE INCIDENT REPORT / SPD

DATE: February 26, 2007 / Time: 9:38PM

TYPE: Homicide

LOCATION: 790 Oak Park Street

INCIDENT REPORTED BY: Mr. Rupert Giles / Age: 57

SUSPECT: Unknown

NARRATIVE: ON THE EVENING OF MARCH 2, 2007, I DETECTIVE LEE WAS ASSIGNED TO A HOMICIDE REPORTED AT THE APARTMENT COMPLEX AT 790 OAK STREET. MR. GILES HAD REPORTED THAT THE BODY OF THE DECEDENT, MISS JENNIFER CALENDAR, HAD BEEN FOUND IN HIS BED PLACED THERE BY HER UNKNOWN ASSAILANT. INITIAL REPORTS INDICATE THAT HER NECK HAD BEEN BROKEN. ROSE PETALS AND CANDLES HAD BEEN METICULOUSLY PLACED AROUND THE APARTMENT IN A MANNER SUGGESTING A ROMANTIC ENCOUNTER. MR. GILES' ALIBI HAS BEEN CONFIRMED AND HE IS NOT A SUSPECT IN THIS CASE. / END REPORT

* * *

( _Phone call from Dean Winchester to Buffy Summers_ )

BUFFY: Dean? Why are _you_ calling? Shouldn't you guys be on the way here anyways for… for the funeral?

DEAN: Can't a guy call his own sister every once in a while without getting crapped on?

BUFFY: No, because if _you're_ calling then something's up. Spit it out.

DEAN: Goddamn suspicious little midget.

BUFFY: Bite me.

DEAN: Not something a freaking Vampire Slayer is supposed to say. ( _sigh_ ) Anyways. I'm calling 'cause we got a problem.

BUFFY: See? I was right.

DEAN: Shut up. They… um… see, Sam found this guy. Dude basically was replacing his own limbs and organs and shit whenever it got rotten so he could live forever. And-And-And Sam, see. He thought it could, you know, save me from the deal, so he stole the dude's notes or formula or some shit—

BUFFY: Dean. You're babbling.

DEAN: ( _whisper_ ) Fuck. ( _normal tone_ ) Look, the the demons found out and said trying to copy this dude broke my fucking contract. They said that means either Sam dies or they half my year. I took the half.

BUFFY: _WHAT?_ No! No no no no no, that's not enough _time_ we haven't found anything—

DEAN: I know! I know. I just… I wanted to let you know and tell you, you know… that I love you. Just in case. Pain in the ass midget that you are.

BUFFY: _SHUT UP!_ You get your stupid, gun-toting ass here _right now_ so we can figure this out or so help me I will _run_ to wherever you are and beat your pretty face in!

SAM: ( _in the background_ ) Dean, I can hear her from here. Let's just head back to Sunnydale.

DEAN: ( _sigh_ ) Okay, okay. ( _in the phone_ ) We'll be there in two, three days.

BUFFY: Fine! Don't do anything stupid… stupid _ER_. Got it?

DEAN: Yeah. All right.

* * *

 **Author's Note** : Giles is listed as having been born in 1954, however since the whole fic is upped by a decade I pushed his birthdate to 1960. Was worried that by the end I'd have a geriatric Watcher breaking a hip killing demons.


	27. Book II: Chapter 27

(2/25/2017) You ever give a dog a haircut so drastic that they don't recognize themselves? It's either that or our little mutt is low on some brain cells.

Thank you **RHatch89** , **thedarkpokemaster** , **jkmp28** , **Maverick500** , and **Sage of Wind Dragons** for the reviews! And all you favoriters and followers get doggie kisses!

* * *

 _March 2007_

* * *

To Buffy's astonishment her brothers came prepared with a legitimate reason to stay in town; Sam was interviewing to take over Jenny Calendar's position until the end of the school year. His (forged) degree from Stanford and (forged) teaching credentials swept him through the screening process and he was hired to start Monday after the funeral.

They decided not to forgo telling Snyder the familial relationship between "Mr. Winchester" and Buffy, which actually ended up helping Sam land the job. The Principal took stock of Buffy's half-brother's apparent scholastic success, his professional demeanor, and his fabricated conviction that his sister needed discipline to mean that the school had gained another set of eyes to watch over the blonde delinquent. Sam wore a properly stern expression while Snyder gleefully informed Buffy of this revelation, then joined her in a bout of hysterics once the man was out of earshot.

Dean was rightfully wary about Sam's decision to utilize their real name. He capitulated after it was pointed out that their nomenclatures weren't exactly uncommon, and that Joyce would have too many questions if she'd found out Sam was using a pseudonym while working.

Dean himself became their second coverup issue. He tried to say he'd pose as the family lazy ass and got two scornful looks in return. Sam managed to wheedle a deal with Snyder after explaining that there was a second sibling who needed a disciplinarian. An irritated Dean was then subject to the Principal's scathing glare and derisive lecture (with plenty of references to their sister's perceived delinquency) before being installed as a volunteer librarian's assistant.

"Why do I gotta work for free?" the eldest of them grumbled as they were walking back to Revello Drive. They'd spent the remainder of the day acclimating to being employees of Sunnydale High before spending several hours at The Bronze commiserating over their weeks spent apart. It was nearly midnight, normally about when Buffy hit the cemeteries for vampires, but her brothers' arrival superceded normally scheduled slayage.

"Because you're a poor mannered, uneducated, scruffy-faced hoodlum," Buffy parroted off of Snyder's speech.

Dean glowered down at his sister as he pulled his phone from his back pocket. "Yeah, it's about time to make a call," he said as he scrolled down his contacts list. "Hold up."

"What?" queried a bemused Buffy. She turned towards Sam and was surprised to see a grim, yet satisfied, look on his face.

"Hiya, Bela," Dean was saying, his voice jaunty. "Here's a fun fact you may not know. I felt your hand in my pocket when you swiped that motel receipt."

As the eldest sibling taunted the thief with the knowledge of her demon deal coming due, Sam explained what had transpired. "We got word from one of Bobby's friends where Bela was at. Tried to see if she still had the Colt. Apparently she sold it to someone in the Middle East so it's long gone."

"Crap," said Buffy.

"Yeah, but here's the thing: Dean saw some herbs in Bela's room that ward against Hellhounds."

"Is that why you stole the Colt, huh?" the eldest brother was asking. "Try to wiggle out of your deal? Our gun for your soul?"

Buffy and Sam looked at each other, startled. "Really?" the teenager wondered.

"Makes sense," Sam answered. "We found out her parents died in a sketchy car crash exactly ten years ago."

The two younger siblings continued listening to Dean rant at the doomed thief. "You know what the bitch of the bunch is? If you would have just come to us sooner and asked for help we probably could have taken the Colt and saved you."

"What would you even do with it?" Buffy asked Sam.

"Go after whoever holds Bela and Dean's contract," he replied. "We don't even know who it is."

" _Lilith_?" Dean said incredulously. "Why should I believe you?"

"Wasn't that who Ruby was so scared of?" Buffy wondered. "You know, when we first saw her outside St. Avellino's?"

"This is bad," Sam said breathlessly. He ran his fingers through his hair and paced a few steps away.

"I'll see you in Hell," Dean snarled before ending the call. He pocketed his phone, walked towards the street, then sat heavily down on the curb. "I am so fucked," he said quietly as Buffy sat beside him.

"What's the big deal with this Lilith?" Buffy asked.

"She's some big demonic player," said Sam as he sat on Dean's other side. "All we know is that she's supposed to be a rival to whatever the yellow-eyed demon wanted me to be. That and she's more powerful than the regular black eyed dicks we deal with."

The brothers went quiet and stared off into the distance. Indisposed to take their maudlin attitudes in silence, Buffy nudged Dean with her shoulder with just enough Slayer strength that he rocked domino-like into Sam. "Stop with the poopy faces!" she demanded as the younger brother toppled onto his side. "We got three months. Plenty of time."

"Yeah, okay," Dean muttered lugubriously. He stood up. "I need a drink."

"You want company?" Sam asked as he dusted off his arm.

"Nah. I'll see you guys tomorrow."

As the eldest of the three walked off, hands stuffed in his jeans pockets, Buffy stood up and folded her arms with a huff. Then, with a hopeful gleam in her eye, she looked down at Sam. "Hey, if I take your class will you give me good grades?"

"Sure," he replied as he got to his feet. "Long as you do the work."

"You are a terrible, _terrible_ brother."

Sam slung his arm onto Buffy's head as they resumed heading home. "Yup."

* * *

Miss Calendar's funeral was a small, solemn affair. Buffy's friends attended, as well as a few students and faculty from Sunnydale High, and a couple of people who looked as if they might be fellow pagans. There was no family, however, and when Sam ventured to ask about their absence he received only shrugs. Giles postulated that, in accordance with the lower socioeconomic status of most European Romani, Jenny's relatives were unable to afford to either ship her body home or to fund the requisite travel arrangements to California.

Dean curiously pointed out the bruise spectacularly blossoming on Giles' face. After glancing at his Slayer, the Watcher cleared his throat and explained that it was a reminder not to be selfish.

Their lives fell into a routine, one that was marked with the morbid ubiquitousness of Dean's deal's rapidly approaching due date. Buffy went to school, hung out with her friends, and did her usual tap dancing around her oblivious mother while fulfilling her duties as the Slayer. With Sam around the subterfuge became even easier. His aid meant that her grades improved considerably which meant Joyce tended to be more lenient towards midnight prowls and "all night study sessions" with "Willow."

Sam settled into his position with surprising ease, a fact that his less academic brother and sister found highly amusing. Giles unwittingly threw fuel on the fire when he suggested Sam consider applying to study with the Watcher's Council. A full week's worth of fake British accents and attempts to get Sam to dress in a cardigan and bow tie subsequently followed.

Sam, however, was rather surprised at how much he enjoyed teaching. Not only was he sharing knowledge, but the disciplinary problems that Snyder had so vehemently insisted were epidemic in his school were absent. Buffy forwent telling her enchanted brother that the calm in his classes was due to other factors than the absence of ingrained delinquency. The girls were too entranced by the young, handsome substitute teacher to throw around attitude; and the boys were too intimidated by Mr. Winchester's height and the fact that he was apparently related to the convict that had been hired as a librarian's assistant.

The first time a stream of teenaged girls, Cordelia at the head, giggled their way into the library Giles thought that a teacher had assigned a research project that had to do with some frivolity. That _had_ to be the only explanation for the presence of some of the more vacuous members of the school's female population. When they headed straight for Dean the answer to their sudden desire to become intellectuals became abundantly clear.

The Watcher thought it was to Dean's credit that he maintained his patience and did his duties without being anything but professional. He even wore a collared shirt and and a tie. For all appearances, Dean Winchester, librarian's assistant, was a fine, respectable gentleman. A hard worker. A straight arrow.

After hours, however, it was apparent that each day that passed saw him falling ever deeper into despair.

Much of Dean's spare time was spent either at The Bronze or swimming to the bottom of a bottle of Jack Daniel's. He was careful enough to sleep off his binges in his car or at whatever woman's bed he'd ended up in rather than risk Joyce's wrath. Giles, being unable to escape Dean's company, often made biting commentary about the caustic fumes wafting from his coworker. Other than that, no one was the wiser to his proclivities.

Sam, but more forcefully Buffy, insisted Dean refrain from hunting lest some creature (or his drunken antics) end up causing his early demise. For the most part he was cooperative; after all, it was difficult for the man to find time to kill monsters while sleeping through the entire population of local coeds and barflies. When the Ghostfacers arrived, however, there was no choice in the matter, especially since Angelus chose that point to reemerge.

* * *

 _April 2007_

* * *

"Who the hell is Sadie Hawkins?" asked Dean as he peered at the flyer pasted on the library door.

"Dance where the girls ask the boys," Sam replied absently from the central desk. It was twenty minutes prior to the first class of the day and he was busy typing up last minute changes to his PowerPoint presentation.

"Oh yeah." Dean's face looked wistfully off into the distance. "I remember this now. Hey, anyone ever bother asking your dorky ass to one of these?"

When Sam didn't respond, Dean walked over and poked him in the back of the head. The younger brother swiped a hand at him and snapped, "Couple of times, okay? Half the time they just wanted to know if anyone had asked _you_ yet." Sam clapped the laptop closed and stood up. "I'm going to be late."

"Dude, the bell hasn't even rung."

"I'm the _teacher_ , Dean. I actually have to be there _before_ the kids."

"Yeah, whatever, Professor Cranky-ass. Have fun."

Giles emerged from his office as Sam was leaving. "Have you ever heard of a 'Ghostfacers'?" he wondered as he furrowed his brow at a printout.

"A what?" Dean peered at the decimals on the sides of the books in front of him before starting to sort.

"'Ghostfacers.' Apparently they want to come interview me about a local spirit."

"Sounds stupid."

"Eh, quite. I suppose I could indulge them for a few minutes."

Dean chucked a stack of books over the central railing with a practiced heave and was satisfied to see the volumes stack themselves haphazardly on the floor. As he walked up the stairs, he asked, "Why not tell them to shove it?"

"Mr. Winchester, please have more care for school property," Giles chided.

"Wait," the hunter said pensively as he knelt down. "How'd they know to contact you? What, they find out you're a Watcher or something?"

"No, I'm being questioned as a member of the faculty." Giles sighed and removed his glasses for cleaning. "For some reason they're quite certain that there will be an incident of some sort tomorrow evening."

"What? Why?"

"Because tomorrow marks fifty years since a student murdered a teacher within these halls."

* * *

During lunchtime, Dean was treated to the spectacle that was Snyder and the janitor confronting a skinny boy that had locked himself to the vending machine. The teen shrieked about animal rights and extolled the virtues of veganism while bolt cutters were snipping away at his chains. Dean made a point to take a big bite of his pastrami sandwich as they passed.

There was an overwhelming amount of buzz from the students about a history teacher that was apparently suffering from some issues and had written an angry, obscene message on his chalkboard while lecturing. Dean spotted his sister and Xander walking down the hallway and followed them. "It bugs me," Buffy was saying as her friend stopped at his locker and twisted the dial.

"I'm not trying to poo poo your wiggins," Xander said as his lock clicked open, "but a domestic dispute and a little case of chalkboard Tourette's? Sounds like 'Hellmouth Lite' to me—"

The boy cut off with a choked shout as a bluish decayed arm shot out from the depths of his locker and wrapped its fingers around his neck. Several other students let out cries of astonishment and horror as the limb tried to pull Xander into the container's depths. As Buffy pried the rotten digits from her friend, Dean sprinted forward and slammed the door shut. He then shoved away the two teenagers and yanked it back open.

Nothing. Nothing other than Xander's haphazardly stored school supplies.

With a great deal of trepidation, Xander threw his unwanted textbook into the locker and slammed the offending container shut. Momentary silence reigned throughout the corridor before normal noise reasserted itself. Dean, Buffy, and Xander then marched straightaway for the library.

When they arrived, they found Willow taking advantage of the remainder of the lunch hour to study. She blinked confusedly at her disheveled friends. "Xander, what did you do? Criticize Cordelia's outfit?"

"You're just a big bucket o' funny, Will," Xander answered. "I'll have you know I just got accosted by some kind of locker monster."

"Loch Ness monster?" asked a highly interested Giles. "Really?"

"Not unless Nessie's hiding in the kid's stuff," Dean clarified. "Those Ghostfacers might actually have been on to something. I think you got a poltergeist."

Xander and Buffy filled Giles and Willow in on their ghostly locker experience, as well as a first hand account about the teacher who had subconsciously written the profanity on his chalkboard, while Dean sent Sam a text. _Ghost in the school. Going to need to find some bones to salt and burn._

 _Who?_ came the reply.

 _Dunno. Can you look up murder suicide from fifty years ago?_

 _Okay, let you know if I find something._

The others were wrapping up their speculations (with Xander crowing about having correctly identified the poltergeist's characteristics). "So what now?" Dean asked.

"The only tried and true way is to figure out what unresolved issues keep the spirit here and… well, resolve them," said Giles.

"If it's that kid and his teacher then, what, we solve his flunked exam or something?"

"Or we Dr. Phil him," Buffy offered.

Giles adjusted his glasses and frowned pensively. "It would be better if we kept a more open mind about who the spirit might be. It could be anyone at all who's died in these halls. Anyone," he added to himself.

* * *

The Ghostfacers showed up at the end of the school day. Their ostentatious van, emblazoned with their name and logo on both sides, had a good number of students staring. Two of the men that the vehicle disgorged had the Winchester brothers exchanging consternated glances.

"Isn't that…?" Sam started to ask.

"Those dumbasses from Texas," finished Dean. "Buffy's gonna flip."

The five members of the Ghostfacers team were busy preparing camera and audio equipment and didn't notice the irritated glares the hunters were casting them from the steps leading to the school entry. An ecstatically freed-from-school Buffy came bouncing down the walkway and called out, "Hey, what're you—oh _hell_ no."

Sam grabbed the back of Buffy's shirt before she could go charging towards the vehicle. "You're still at school, dummy."

"Hey, I owe them!" Buffy whirled around and stabbed a finger into her brother's chest. "Remember that tulpa thing? Mortadella?"

"Mordechai," Dean muttered.

"Right, Mocha-chai. Those idiots nearly got us all killed!"

The Ghostfacers group approached, Ed Zeddmore and Harry Spangler in the lead. Ed, in particular, looked irked to find the trio staring at them. "We were here first," the man snarled.

"They were here first," Dean said sardonically to his siblings.

" _I_ was here first," Buffy clarified. She grabbed Ed by the front of his shirt and yanked him down to her level. "This is _my_ school."

"No, Ms. Summers," interrupted Principal Snyder, "this is _my_ school."

Buffy quickly released the self-proclaimed ghost expert. She stood back and attempted to look contrite. Unfortunately, her natural tendency to defy the principal's presuppositions warred with the effort and made her look merely pouty.

Snyder focused on the group of possible ne'er-do-wells that had invaded his campus. "I'm assuming there's a reason behind your presence here, Mr…?"

Harry cleared his throat and stuck out a hand. "Ah, yes, sir. Spangler, Harry Spangler. We are experts on the paranormal and are here to film the pilot for our television show."

The Principal ignored the proffered limb. "What sort of nonsense is this?"

Ed, Harry, and two other members of their crew (a skinny, jittery youth and an Asian woman) began an eager, overlapping explanation of their work. The last (a portly, bespectacled young man) hoisted his camera and began filming. Sam tried his best from behind the increasingly vitriolic Principal to gesture them to stop but to no avail. Buffy and Dean merely enjoyed the show.

One by one the Ghostfacers caught exactly what both Sam and Snyder were conveying and drifted off into nervous silence. In a tone that Buffy was familiar to cringing to, the Principal ordered, "All of you idiots will leave my campus _right now_ or I will call the police and have you arrested for trespassing."

The quintet of paranormal investigators made their apologies and, after Ed and Harry gave the siblings meaningful glowers, retreated back to their van. Sam, Dean, and Buffy's relief over their departure was short-lived as Snyder turned and directed his ire at the three of them. "Would any of you like to explain what was going on here?"

As the only one of them who might possibly get away with a plausible lie, Sam said, "We've met them before. They're stupid, but harmless. We were just trying to make sure they didn't cause any trouble."

"Very well," Snyder replied. "Don't let me catch _her_ assaulting anyone on school grounds again."

Sam mumbled out an affirmative response and the Principal marched back inside. Sourly, Dean muttered, "And a good day to you. Dick."

"Dean," Sam sighed.

"'Assault'!" Buffy cried indignantly. "I didn't assault him! If anything, I was _preparing_ to assault him."

Sam rolled his eyes. "We better go tell Giles who these dumbasses are."

* * *

After Giles was informed about the Ghostfacers' origins he emailed the group to respectfully decline to be interviewed. That left the evening free to be spent trying to discover who the spirit might be and why they might be appearing exactly at this moment. Buffy was expected at home, but her brothers stayed at the school with her Watcher.

Sam had finally uncovered the details regarding the teacher's death from fifty years prior. He had opened his mouth to tell Dean and Giles when a gunshot echoed through the halls. The three shot out of the library.

Dean and Giles took off after what looked like a janitor holding a handgun while Sam went towards where the sound had originated. The second floor walkway and bannister outside the nearest door were spattered with blood. When he looked down below, a middle aged female teacher was lying broken on the pavement.

"Holy shit."

Sam whirled around. Ed and his cameraman were there, goggling at the blood. The hunter took the lead Ghostfacer by the shoulders and demanded, "Did you see what happened?" When the man merely stared, pale, Sam shook him. "Well?"

"Uh, yeah," the cameraman said irritably, more vexed that the hunter didn't acknowledge his equipment than having had to witness a woman's death. "Got the whole thing on video."

"Good. Let's go."

* * *

 **Acknowledgement** : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episodes "Time Is on My Side" (SPN 2.14), Ghostfacers (SPN 3.13), and "I Only Have Eyes For You" (BtVS 2.19).

 **Author's Note** : I don't know about you, but a mocha chai sounds disgusting.


	28. Book II: Chapter 28

(3/18/2017) Brain had some roadblocks on this storyline. Also, got addicted to Minecraft. I know, I'm years behind the trend, but it's just so addicting!

Thank you **thedarkpokemaster** , **RHatch89** , **jkmp28** , **demon19027** , **philly cheese dude** , and **Maverick500** for the reviews! And everyone favoriting and following gets cake!

* * *

When Sam and the Ghostfacer duo reentered the school they found Dean and Giles hovering over a wiry man in a maintenance suit. The janitor was cornered sitting against the wall, his head in his hands, and appeared to be choking back sobs.

"Where's the gun?" Sam wondered.

"Dunno," Dean replied. "We looked up and down the hallway and found jack."

"Excuse me," Giles said sternly, "but who are they?"

"They're part of those Ghostfacers," Sam told him.

"What're you doing here, Ed?" Dean asked, annoyed. "You know you're on a freaking high school campus after hours, right?"

"Hey, we just witnessed an actual spiritual possession!" Ed cried indignantly. "That guy and-and-and the dead woman… we saw them! It was like, _pow!_ sudden and complete takeover, man!"

"Got it on this baby right here," the cameraman said proudly. The red recording indicator flicked off as he hoisted the equipment down from his shoulder. Dean and Giles hurried over to join Sam and Ed in huddling together to look at the small preview screen.

It was taken, quite obviously, from a place of hiding, as the cross hatched markings prevalent on the screen reflected the patterns on a nearby classroom door. The black lines disappeared as the camera moved in towards the glass and followed the now deceased teacher down the hallway. She greeted the janitor in a friendly manner with nothing to suggest that they were anything more than casual acquaintances.

The change was abrupt. Within moments the janitor was yelling invectives while the teacher tearfully responded. They appeared to come to an emotional conclusion when a gun suddenly materialized in the man's hand. He said something that horrified the woman and she ran down the hallway and out onto the balcony.

Ed appeared on screen as he opened the classroom door. A few moments of bouncing video followed as the Ghostfacers chased after the couple. The motion halted as soon as the gun went off. After that, the video ended.

"The hell?" Dean muttered.

"It's that kid and his teacher from fifty years ago," Sam explained. "I was about to tell you guys when, well, _that_ happened. Papers said that the police suspected they were lovers and she tried to break it off. He shot her then headed for the music room and shot himself."

"Crap." Frustrated, Dean threw his hands up. "That means the ghost is tied to the goddamn school."

"Is that bad?" Ed asked quietly.

"Means that even if we find this asshole's bones they're tied to the building. We'd have to burn the freaking place down."

"Please don't," Giles said as he pulled his phone from his pocket. "I'd suggest you all leave. I need to contact the authorities."

As soon as they had hit the parking lot, Dean grabbed Ed by his lapels and shoved him up against a car. "I'm only gonna say this once. Show up here again and I'll blow your head off."

"You can't do that!" the Ghostfacer objected. "We have just as much a right to investigate the paranormal as you do!"

"Ed, a woman just _died_ ," Sam pleaded. "You keep coming back like this and who knows which of you is going to be the next victim?"

"Fine. Just… _fine_. C'mon Kenny."

The brothers watched the somewhat dejected pair head into a rental car and drive off. "He's going to come back, isn't he?" postulated Sam.

"Yeah," Dean sighed. "Oh well. We better get going too."

* * *

The janitor was detained by the police. However, Giles said, truthfully, that there was no recoverable weapon and that he hadn't seen exactly what had transpired. The poor woman was certainly dead, but it looked as if there was nothing conclusively tying the man to the crime. Regardless, they hauled the janitor in for questioning and blocked off the area so that school could open for the day.

Sam noticed that most of his students were distracted and tense. He spent his first few classes just letting them (restrictively) surf the internet. His prep period occurred right before lunch and he'd intended to spend it relaxing with a chicken Ceaser salad. To his annoyance, Buffy, Willow, and Xander skipped their own classes for an impromptu meeting with him. Willow was lugging along a thick, oversized yearbook whose spine called out: "Sunnydale High School 1957."

"You know," Sam said irritably, "I _am_ a teacher. Technically I'm supposed to report you guys."

Ignoring Buffy's snippy brother, Willow slapped the volume down on his desk and began flipping through pages. She ended on a tribute to Grace Newman, a pretty, young brunette who beamed happily from her stock school photo. _In Memoriam_ was etched above her name. "I think this is the ghost," said the red-headed teenager. "Her or the guy that killed her."

"Okay, fresh new strangeness?" Buffy commented. "I dreamt about this woman the other day. Her and this young guy."

Willow continued turning pages until they came to the clubs and organizations chapter. They found Grace Newman again, this time standing in a photo with a group of other students under the heading, "Literary Club." Buffy quickly stabbed a finger at a handsome young man on the opposite side of the picture. "James Stanley. He's the one that did it."

"Your dreams are getting awesomely accurate, Buffy," an impressed Xander inserted. "You wouldn't happen to see me coming into big cash or, possibly, knowing the love of a woman? In a full-body sense?"

"Dude!" Sam exclaimed.

"Come on. I'm sure you remember the oh so perpetual lustiness that was your teenage years."

"Yeah, but I'm not airing the details in front of my little sister."

"He looks so normal in his picture," Willow said sadly. "He was smart, too. He made the honor role."

"He killed a person and he killed himself," Xander contradicted. "Those are pretty much the two dumbest things you can do."

"I know, but don't you feel kind of bad for them?

"I feel lousy," Buffy answered caustically. "For _her_. He's a murderer. He should pay for it."

"With his life?" wondered a shocked Willow.

"No, he should be in prison for sixty years breaking rocks and making 'special friends' with Roscoe the weight lifter."

Buffy's two friends and brother exchanged worried looks. "Are you okay?" Sam asked.

"Fine," she growled. "I think it's _his_ ghost we're dealing with. Everything's too violent to be hers."

"Depends," her brother challenged. "It could be her, too, depending on the exact circumstances. Only way to be sure is to find out what they're trying to say."

"Who _cares_?" Buffy snapped. "We gotta shut him down before some other innocent guy shoots some nice girl and blows his brains all over the music room wall."

The bell rang in the ensuing silence. Xander broke the tension by clapping his hands and making a general inquiry. "Okay! Who's hungry?"

* * *

Dean was technically supposed to eat with the teachers in their lounge, but as the enamored lunch lady gave him free food and his sister normally partook in the cafeteria, he often just lunched with her and her friends. The trick was to be certain Snyder was nowhere nearby; the Principal had already given him fair warning not to fraternize with the students. Both Dean and Buffy's insistence that family trumped the lofty pedestal that teachers were supposed to sit on went ignored.

Buffy, Xander, and Willow were all stabbing morosely at their food. Dean even managed to snag a tidbit from each of their plates without a single outcry. He was inching for another of Xander's French fries when Cordelia plopped down next to her boyfriend.

"I hope you guys weren't planning on going to this Sadie Hawkins dance," she huffed, "because I'm totally organizing a boycott. Do you realize that the girls are suppose to ask the guys, and pay and everything? I mean, whose genius idea was that?"

"Some dick, probably," Dean deadpanned through his purloined potato.

"Exactly!" Cordelia exclaimed. "I mean—"

Whatever exposition the girl was about to launch into was cut off by a terrified scream from the table next to them. A female student was screeching at what presumably had been her lunch and was now a writhing tangle of snakes.

Dean jerked his gaze downwards and discovered similarly transformed serpentine lunch plates in front of his sister and her friends. Cordelia let out an ear-piercing shriek as her spaghetti-noodle-turned-reptile lashed up and bit her on the cheek. Repulsed, Xander reached out and yanked it away before hauling himself and his girlfriend up and away from the table.

The cafeteria quickly became a chaotic mass of reptiles and horrified students. Willow had followed Xander and Cordelia in fleeing the room, but Dean and Buffy stayed to rescue the other teenagers and herd the crowd outdoors. A stream of panicked students and only slightly less panicked serpents streamed from the school entrance.

Once he was finally outside, Dean glared at a particularly sluggish snake that was trudging through the grass in front of him. "What," he snarled, "the fuck."

With a grimace, Buffy toed the animal away. "James Stanley."

"Excuse me?"

"The name of the jerk pulling these stunts. We figured it out right before lunch."

"Great. Fan-fucking-tastic. Did you guys happen to also figure out what the hell he wants?"

"Not yet. But I think it might be time to go from Dr. Phil to Dr. Kevorkian on this guy."

* * *

Buffy, her brothers, and her friends Willow, Xander, and Cordelia (Willow had invited Oz but apparently the boy's band was scheduled to perform in Santa Barbara) gathered in the library late in the afternoon in order to discuss options. As the upcoming night would mark the actual date that James had murdered his illicit lover, Giles opined that the spirit might resort to drastic measures to get whatever it was that he wanted. Having encountered their fair share of restless ghosts, Sam and Dean agreed.

Their ignorance of the exact circumstances surrounding James and Grace's relationship made for all their current difficulties. Moreover, Sam discovered James had been cremated and Grace's remains had been flown north to her hometown of Sacramento. Even if they had wanted to salt and burn her bones they'd have never made it there and back before the night was done.

Research was the next option. They all selected something having to do with ghosts and got to reading. With great reluctance, Giles allowed Willow to peer through one of his less dangerous spellbooks on the caveat that she not try to actually _do_ any of the spells she discovered until given permission.

Buffy, itching to have a stake in hand and a vampire to dust, took to staring into space. She eventually realized that Giles had been looking at the same page in his book for nearly fifteen minutes. The Slayer shuffled herself a little closer to her Watcher and quietly asked, "What's wrong?"

"Hm? Oh, um, nothing."

"Giles, that's the appendix. Unless you're trying to memorize every word in that book _alphabetically_ …"

The elder man sighed and closed the back cover. "I just… I was hoping, somehow, that the ghost might have been Jenny."

"Why?"

Giles gave Buffy a sad smile. "I think, perhaps, I just wanted to speak to her one more time, to tell her how sorry I was."

"Sorry? Sorry about what?"

"For failing to protect her."

Buffy scowled. "Giles, Miss Calendar's death was _not_ your fault. If it's anyone's it's mine. I should have dusted Angel a long time ago."

"Buffy, you can't—"

"Look look look look look!" Willow suddenly cried. Ignorant of the tension in front of her, the girl excitedly swiveled her book around to where Giles and Buffy were sitting. "A communing spell! It's totally doable. We just need a couple of things and-and-and we can ask James what he wants!"

Sam frowned pensively. "But what if what he wants isn't something we're willing to give him?"

"Then do we get to burn down the school?" an eager Xander asked. "Please say we get to burn down the school."

"Oh sure," Buffy scoffed. "When I burn part of the school down by accident it's not okay, but doing it on _purpose_ …"

"For goodness sake," sighed Giles. "I think—what was that?"

As it was past seven, the school should have been empty. Even those who were likely to have stayed late, such as the janitorial staff and some overworked teachers, had taken the previous night's macabre events as a warning not to be in the building after dark. Therefore the hushed voices and hissing whispers that were now drifting in from the hallway were highly suspect.

Cautiously, Dean crept towards the library doors. The others, apprehensive, went silent. When the hunter suddenly straightened and rolled his eyes they all relaxed. They then stared in amazement as Dean yanked the door open and pulled in a weedy young man wearing a camera headset. Immediately tumbling in afterwards was the young Asian woman and Harry Spangler, both of whom ended up sprawled onto the floor.

"Didn't we tell you dumbasses to leave?" Dean spat down at Harry. He shoved the squealing boy in his grip off to one side.

An indignant Harry scrambled to his feet and brushed off his front. "Ed said that he saw definitive proof of a spectral anomaly. It's our duty to record and research the phenomenon!"

The young man was doing his best not to let Dean intimidate him, but when Giles came stomping up Harry had no qualms about cringing in fright. "Are you lot completely out of your _bleeding minds_?" the Watcher shouted. "The spirit has already coerced someone to murder a woman and now here you are offering yourselves up on a bloody plate!"

The woman drew herself up as far as she could and demanded, "Then why are you all here?"

Giles whipped off his glasses and glared. "Young lady, every single person in this room has encountered deadly supernatural forces and lived to tell about it."

" _Often_ and _unwillingly_ ," Cordelia muttered.

"From what I understand, the lot of _you_ are glorified thrill seekers that have no experience and no training, and are on a short path to being eviscerated by an angry spirit!"

Cowed by the Watcher's wrath, the three intruders huddled together and whimpered. In the ensuing semi-silence, Dean narrowed his eyes and asked, "Where's the rest of you idiots?"

"Around," Harry replied evasively.

The hunter's desire to wring an answer from the man went unfulfilled as a series of bangs echoed down the hallways. Alarmed, Buffy and her friends stood up and hurried from the library. They stopped at one of the school's exits and the Slayer yanked hard on the door.

"It's not locked," she grunted through her efforts, "but it's not opening!"

On the other end of the hall, Sam shouted back, "Door's stuck here, too!"

"We're trapped," Xander gasped.

"Thanks, Captain Obvious," Dean muttered. He then cursed, loudly, " _Shit!_ All of our guns are in the car!"

"What's a gun going to do against a ghost?" Cordelia asked derisively.

"Salt rounds will dissipate them," Sam answered as he approached. "We should raid the cafeteria."

"You mean that room full of Voldemort's best friends?" Xander asked incredulously.

"What? Didn't they get them all out?"

"They tried," Willow said. "But the more they got the more showed up."

"Endless hiss-o-rama," added Buffy.

"I ain't afraid of snakes," Dean proclaimed before marching determinedly towards the cafeteria.

"Stay put," Sam ordered the rest of them. "Including _you_ ," he snarled at the Ghostfacers.

As her brothers walked away, Buffy took the opportunity to continue Harry's interrogation. She grabbed him by the front of his shirt and slammed him against a locker. "Your buddy, idiot number two? Where?"

The question was quickly answered as Ed and his cameraman came screaming down the nearest set of stairs. What had them spooked was readily apparent; a cloud of angrily buzzing insects was giving chase.

They sprinted for the library, Ed and Kenny close behind. Once back inside, Xander and Giles pulled the doors closed and held them. Their winged pursuers pattered against the windows. Strangely, despite the inch wide opening at the floor, the conjured bugs stayed on the other side.

A panicked Willow then asked, "Where's Buffy?"

An equally anxious Harry asked, "Where's Alan?"

Ed lunged forward, intent on charging through the cloud of stingers to go find their missing teammate. Immediately the buzzing from the outside became louder and the insects' movements more agitated. Harry pulled his friend away. "Don't do it, man! You're _allergic_."

"Now what?" groused Cordelia.

In a calm voice (that belied the panic he truly felt), Giles said, "Buffy and her brothers can handle themselves. We need to figure out how to get out of here."

"What about Alan?" Ed asked.

No one could provide a reassuring response.

* * *

 **Acknowledgement** : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episodes "Ghostfacers" (SPN 3.13), and "I Only Have Eyes For You" (BtVS 2.19).

 **Author's Note** : Xander originally says Buffy's dreams are "wicked accurate." As a native speaker, I updated his colloquialism to reflect a proper Californian dialect. Like, totally.

I wanted so much to put in Giles thinking it was Jenny's ghost but just couldn't make it work. It would have had to involve a good deal of ignorance on the Winchesters. He just says some of the best lines in his ignorance.


	29. Book II: Chapter 29

(4/9/2017) New job, new stress, but finally got this sucker done. Totally prepared for the conclusion of Book II. Maybe. Kinda sorta.

Thank you **jkmp28** , **RHatch89** , **thedarkpokemaster** , **IoSolUno** , **Maverick500** , **philly cheese dude** , and Mystery Guest for the reviews! And special stickers for everyone favoriting and following!

* * *

The number of salt containers Sam was looking at made him recalculate how high Dean's cholesterol and blood pressure must be. If this was how much they fed teenagers, he dreaded finding out the content of the burgers and fries his brother inhaled on a near daily basis.

"Got a crate," Dean announced. He began pulling cylinders from the shelves and dumping them into his makeshift storage box.

Sam swung his flashlight around the kitchen. Some large knives were drying near the sink. "You ever think of going on a diet?" he asked as he walked over to get the improvisational weaponry.

"What?"

"I mean, your arteries probably look like an eighty-year-old's."

"Dude, I'm not eating rabbit food."

"Why not try it at least? I mean, think about how much longer you'll… live."

Sam trailed off, acutely aware of how uncomfortable the silence between them became. He knew Dean's constant partaking of debauchery and drink was due to his conviction that, one month from now, he'd be in Hell. But for all the hopelessness and dead ends, Sam had yet to give up hope. In his mind, some Hail Mary was undoubtedly going to appear and save his brother. There had to still be that one piece of lore, that uncovered book, that powerful spell just waiting to be discovered.

"Check it out," Dean suddenly said. He held up a large, unlabeled can and shook it vigorously. "Mystery meat. Dare you to eat it."

Sam rolled his eyes and started to retort when the skinny, head-camera wearing youth from the Ghostfacers came charging through the kitchen doors. The boy slammed them shut and leaned up against the knobs. "Bees! Bees! Bees!" he shrieked.

The brothers exchanged bewildered glances. "What?" asked Dean.

"Bees everywhere!" The young man let loose a shrill scream when Sam put a hand on his shoulder.

"Whoa whoa whoa! Calm down." Sam shined his light into the boy's face. "What bees?"

With a whine, the Ghostfacer pointed. Dean hurried into the cafeteria, tiptoed around the carpet of snakes, and peered cautiously into the hallway. He leaned back inside the room and announced, "There's a freaking cloud of bugs at the library doors."

Sam swept his flashlight about. "There," he said as he pointed at a small, high window. He looked back at the boy and asked, "Okay, what's your name?"

"Alan."

"All right. Me and my brother, we're going to break that window open, okay? And you're just small enough to get through. Go to our car and into the trunk. There's some shot guns and a box of shells that say 'rock salt' on them. Bring them right back here."

"B-B-But…"

Sam gave Alan a reassuring smile. "You can do this." The young man swallowed then nodded affirmatively.

"You fuck up my car and I'll blow your damn head off," warned Dean as he handed over the keys.

Alan eyed Dean with a good amount of trepidation as Sam grabbed a mop and slammed the wooden end through the glass. He spent a few moments clearing shards from the edges before laying several towels down on the sill. The brothers then hauled Alan up and out of the opening and watched him sprint for the parking lot.

"How'd you know James would even let him through the window?" asked Dean.

"Didn't," Sam replied. "Had to try something."

"Well, let's just hope he's smarter than his dumbass friends and actually follows directions."

* * *

Alan saw that there were only four cars in the lot: their Ghostfacer van, a red Mercedes, a dilapidated _something_ that was tiny and gray, and a sleek black muscle car. For a moment, the boy considered hopping into their van and curling into a little ball until the night was over. Then he remembered that Ed was still trapped inside.

This was his time to shine, to show Ed what he was really made of! Alan continued jogging towards the cars and was stopped by a soft, "Hey."

When the young man turned, he saw a tall, handsome older man in a long, black coat smiling worriedly at him. "Did you come from the school?" the stranger asked.

"Um," Alan managed. Really, Ed was the greatest and Alan would _never_ betray him, but this man was just distractingly attractive.

"I was just asking because my girlfriend… well, she said she had a late study session and she was supposed to meet me afterwards." The man gave a shaky laugh. "I'm just worried. This town isn't exactly safe after dark."

Alan recalled that there were three teenaged girls inside the library. "What does she look like?"

"Blonde, short, kinda cute."

"Oh! Yeah, she's in there, but there's something, well, of _paranormal significance_ ," —he'd have to thank Ed for that particular phrase— "and it would be best if you stayed out here."

"Really?" the man said doubtfully.

Alan nodded superciliously. In present company his knowledge of the otherworldly was certainly far greater. "There are _things_ out there. Otherworldly things that would blow your mind. I've seen them."

"Huh." The stranger smirked. "Well, then what would you say if you saw this?"

Bones crunched and skin stretched right before Alan's eyes. The young man barely had time for a strangled scream before the thing was on him and burying its fangs into his neck.

* * *

Sam and Dean were searching for something that might shield them from being stung when Alan's cry floated in from the broken window. Both brothers rushed towards the opening and peered out. Far off in the distance they could just barely make out Alan's body, eyes and mouth distended in horror. Blood was pooled on the concrete beneath his head.

"Goddamnit," cursed Dean. "Stupid vampire town."

"Come on," Sam urged. They headed for the cafeteria exit, heedless of the reptilian flooring, Dean in the lead.

The elder brother peered cautiously out the door. "Bugs ain't moving," he whispered. He edged slowly into the hallway and began walking cautiously towards the insects.

Sam put one foot out and immediately a contingent detached itself from the swarm and zoomed towards him. Immediately Dean turned around, ran, and shoved his brother back inside the room. He then took off the opposite way shouting obscene imprecations at the bugs and waving his arms wildly.

"Dean!" shouted Sam. He tried to exit again and found the insects buzzing angrily at him. When he bravely took a step forward, one stung him.

"Shit!" The pain was _blinding_ , far worse than any bee or wasp should have been. It took what felt like forever for his vision to return. When a second, and then a _third_ , insect landed on his arm, Sam tried in vain to shake them off. They raised their stingers expectantly and stared at him. When the hunter stepped back towards the cafeteria, they lifted away from his skin. When he stepped towards the hallway, they jabbed him.

A snake was tonguing his earlobe curiously signifying that, somehow, Sam was now lying on the floor. He groaned and did his best to stand, all to no avail. Whatever was going on James did not want him involved, and until the insects' venom had run its course (hopefully without killing him) it looked like Dean was on his own.

* * *

Dean ran up the stairs and down a few hallways before he realized the insects were no longer following. He let loose a few of his favorite profanities and started stomping back towards the cafeteria.

"Oh, now lookie what we got here."

Immediately Dean turned and looked for a chair, a pencil, a ruler, _anything_ wooden to shove into the vampire's chest. Angelus was quicker, his fist connecting hard with Dean's face. The monster followed up with a demonic growl as he slammed the hunter's face into the grate of a locker.

Dean managed to put his hands up in time to prevent the metal from gouging his face, but his head rang from the impact nonetheless. The vampire flipped him around. "You know, Dean," Angelus said, maliciously happy, "I've been waiting to do this ever since we met."

"Yeah?" The hunter leaned in and snarled, "Get it over with then."

"Now what kind of fun would that be? See, what I'm thinking is that we have ourselves a little fun. Afterwards I can decorate the hallways with your body parts and leave them for that little sister of yours to find."

"You're the only one I can talk to."

Both man and vampire snapped their heads towards the Slayer. Her face was pointed at the floor, and her dialogue and tone were definitely out of character if she had arrived to rescue her brother. "Buffy?" Dean ventured.

Angelus smashed his hand into Dean's face and slammed the hunter's skull into the locker again. Stunned, Dean slumped to the linoleum as the vampire taunted, "I don't know what would be more pathetic: if you were talking about me or the self-hating pretty-boy on the floor there."

"You can't make me disappear just because you say it's over," Buffy uttered as she lifted her eyes. Dean's head cleared just enough to see the mix of fury and misery within his sister's green gaze.

The vampire chuckled, his lips twisted into a wry smirk. "Actually, I can. In fact…"

Within one moment and the next, Angelus changed. The expression of sadistic amusement melted into desperation, misery, and, oddly, love. "I just want you to have some kind of a normal life," he cried. "We can never have that! Don't you see?"

Incredulous, Dean scrambled to his feet. He lunged for the vampire just as the same, rotted blue arm that had accosted Xander burst from the nearest locker and wrapped itself around his neck. The hunter pulled desperately, choking, but the corpse's limb had a firm grip. In his struggles, he missed a portion of the conversation only to be jerked back to it when Buffy shouted, "Then tell me you don't love me. Say it!"

Dean stopped trying to free himself, realization of the pair's possession dawning on him, as Angelus quietly replied, "Will that help? Is that what you want to hear?" The vampire's eyes filled with tears. "I don't. I _don't_. Now let me go!"

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Dean grumbled and resumed pulling against his restraints. "Stupid-ass chick flick shit." He risked fumbling inside the locker and, surprisingly, came up with a butterfly knife. Thanking whatever delinquent had stashed the weapon away, the hunter flipped the blade open and began hacking at the arm. He paused when Buffy screamed, "Don't walk away from me, bitch!"

The corpse suddenly dropped Dean as his sister and her former boyfriend fled to the balcony. Before he could pursue the haunted pair an unseen force yanked his ankle and pulled him, roaring angrily, down the hallway and into the music room. He was then flung into an instrument locker (where his elbow promptly crunched through a tuba case) and locked inside.

Kicking, punching, and cursing the doors did nothing to alleviate his situation. Either the ghost had shut the thing up tight or the band boosters had gone over and beyond in supplying the school with security for their property. Dean paused to catch his breath and the expected gunshot rang out. He renewed his efforts with more vigor.

The doors had just enough space between them to peer out. When Buffy entered the room, her brother shouted and banged on his prison. Without acknowledging the clamor, the Slayer picked up a record, inserted it into a player, and hit a button. The fact that neither object had existed a moment before didn't seem to phase her. She turned towards the trophy cabinet and Dean saw a young, handsome boy in a letterman jacket staring back.

The hunter's breath caught. _His sister was still holding the goddam gun!_ And now, just as James had done fifty years prior, Buffy lifted the barrel and placed it on her temple.

As Dean cried out in denial, he was shocked to see Angelus return… and gently move the gun away. "Don't do this," he said.

"Grace? But I… I killed you."

"It's not your fault. It was an accident."

"It _is_ my fault! How could I let this—"

"I'm the one who should be sorry, James. You thought I stopped loving you. But I never did. I loved you with my last breath."

Buffy wept and Dean cringed. It was obvious why James had chosen his sister for this posthumous act of redemption. He could see where this was leading, and he grimaced. Even when Angelus was Angel Buffy's brother was loathe to witness their intimacies.

"No more tears," Angelus murmured and, just as Dean feared, the pair passionately kissed.

"James, you prick," Dean snarled to the spirit. "At least let me out so I can smack down that son of a bitch."

The tableau seemed to freeze. Dean looked around in confusion before spotting James' reflection staring at him in the mirror. The two of them watched the bright light that was Grace's spirit lift majestically towards Heaven. Dean looked back at the boy and saw that abject terror had taken root. Silently, the spirit mouthed a final request.

 _Don't give up. Find a way._

Smoke, black and thick, began seeping in from the corners of the mirror. James gazed downwards at something ghastly, something that had him soundlessly screaming. The cloud then enveloped the boy. His visage spasmed once, twice, and then was gone.

Dean swallowed. James, the idiot, was trying to remind him of how horrific it was to be consigned to Hell. The hunter realized that he had gone complacent, apathetic even, over his impending doom. He'd forgotten, somehow, that where he was headed to was not merely empty death, but somewhere far, far worse.

Somewhere that would leave him with black eyes.

Angry at himself, Dean pounded the door of his prison. The sound was followed by the wet smack of two sets of lips parting one another. In a small voice, Dean heard his sister wonder, "Angel?"

With a vampiric growl, Angelus shoved Buffy away. To Dean's amusement, the creature wiped his mouth on his sleeve and bolted from the room. "Hah!" the hunter barked.

A moment later, a tear-streaked Buffy tore open the cabinet doors. Surprised, Dean fell face first onto the thin carpet. "How long were you in there?" his sister asked.

Dean picked himself off the floor. "Long enough."

"How much did you see?"

" _Way_ too frigging much."

Buffy sighed shakily. "He picked me. He knew."

Without hesitation Dean wrapped his sister in a tight, wordless embrace. He was far from being an expert at relationship issues (and _no one_ could claim they had experienced a parallel of Buffy's spectacularly unnatural circumstances), but he could at least offer his sympathy. That and a distraction. "Hey. You, me, Sammy: we need to talk."

Buffy gave an indelicate sniff. "About?"

"Me."

* * *

Buffy's friends both celebrated and griped about the school now being free of a homicidal ghost and its subsequent ability to resume hosting normal academic drudgery. As a group they found a recovering Sam in a now serpentine-free cafeteria and then headed for the exit.

The Ghostfacers clamored for details of the Slayer's spiritual encounter until Dean snapped at them that Alan was dead. After that they were silent as they hurried for the parking lot to recover the poor young man's body.

"That was mean," Sam told Dean quietly. "You could have prepared them a little more."

"Yeah? They deserved it." The eldest brother looked pointedly at their still miserable sister.

"Fair enough."

When they reached the remaining Ghostfacers, Ed was kneeling next to Alan and carefully covering the dead boy's head with his jacket while the young Asian woman (whose name was apparently Maggie) phoned 911. Harry, however, was having a heated debate with Giles while his cameraman recorded the exchange.

"If you do not give me every single recording right now," the Watcher was threatening, "I will call down every resource at my disposal and have the lot of you arrested and committed for the rest of your natural lives."

"With what army?" Harry scoffed. "This is America, man; we've got freedom of the press. The public has the right to know about the existence of the paranormal! Go back to your tea-sipping island and oppress people over there instead before we reenact the Revolutionary War right here and now!" The Ghostfacer completed his declaration by folding his arms and gazing smugly at his opponent.

Giles pinched the bridge of nose and while doing his best to withhold both a verbal and physical explosion. His Slayer solved the dilemma by yanking the heavy camera off of Kenny's shoulder. She gripped the center of the equipment (where things looked especially expensive) and began to pull, much to the loud consternation of the Ghostfacers.

"Okay okay okay!" Harry shouted. "Just don't break it. I don't have a thousand bucks just lying around."

"Good," Giles said firmly. "I won't have more of your sort showing up and dying because of this idiocy. Sam, Willow, would you two please go over their equipment and make sure everything is deleted?" The named pair nodded and, after Sam appropriated the camera from a smirking Buffy, followed Maggie and Harry to their van.

"Hey, man," Dean said as he knelt down beside Ed. "I'm sorry."

Ed mumbled something about Alan having had a crush on him, but didn't bother to clarify further. Dean shook his head and stood up. "We better get going," he informed the others.

"Ugh, this was such a waste of time," Cordelia complained. "I could have been home doing something useful. Like sleeping."

"Hate to agree," added Buffy as she looked up at her brother, "but she's right. I'm beat. Can whatever it is wait until morning?"

"No," he replied. "Soon as Sammy's done we'll talk."

* * *

Sam and Buffy peered apprehensively at their elder brother as they walked towards a park table. They weren't worried about being interrupted; late as it was the only miscreants that might disturb them wouldn't have been human and, between the three of them, would be easily taken care of.

As Buffy claimed rights to the table itself by climbing up and placing her feet on the bench, Sam leaned against the side and asked, "Well?"

Dean sighed. "Look, I know you two got my best interests in mind and whatever, but the coddling stops now. No more keeping me away from hunting."

"But—" began Buffy.

"Uh-uh!" her brother denied. "No buts! I'm going freaking stir-crazy being the goddamn library monkey. I gotta go out and do what I'm meant to do: save people, hunt things. And, you know, while I'm out there I need to be looking for a way out of this deal, too."

"What brought the change of heart?" Sam asked.

"James. I saw what happened to him, how fucking _terrified_ he was to get dragged down." Dean wiped a hand down his face and stared at the grass. "I don't want to die. I don't want to go to Hell. But I haven't been doing anything about it other than screwing and drinking to try and forget. Time I face facts and start dealing with this shit."

"Hooray for homicidal ghosts," Buffy quipped. She hopped down off of the table and stretched. "So… want to patrol with me tomorrow?"

Dean grimaced. "Vampires? C'mon. That's amateur crap."

"Amateur!" cried the indignant Slayer. "I'll amateur _you_ —"

Sam sighed and grabbed the back of his sister's shirt, both irritated and relieved that his siblings were back to their childish bickering. It had been extraordinarily difficult for him these past few weeks with his brother maudlin over his crossroads deal and Buffy wracked with guilt over Angel's fate. This new attitude from the both of them nearly had him smiling. "So what's first?"

"Sleep," Dean proclaimed. "Then I think we get Bobby here. Can't hurt to have another hunter around."

Buffy beamed in anticipation of time with their adopted uncle. "I'll see if Giles will let him stay at his place."

"Awesome. Oh, hey. Tell him that I quit. No more being his lame-ass assistant."

The three sauntered their way back to the Impala, laughing and mocking one another as if they were any other set of siblings. Hope, as small and baseless as it was, had been rekindled. Perhaps, in the end, there wouldn't be cause for sorrow after all.

* * *

 **Acknowledgement** : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episode "I Only Have Eyes For You" (BtVS 2.19).

 **Author's Note** : I know I changed James' fate, but the dude committed murder _and_ suicide. Didn't think that Heaven was in the cards.


	30. Book II: Chapter 30

(4/13/2017) Little interlude before we dive into the finale. Maybe a gift for having to have waited so long for the previous chapter?

 **Note** : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episode "Becoming, Part I" (BtVS 2.21).

Thank you **Sage of Wind Dragons** , **RHatch89** , **thedarkpokemaster** , **jkmp28** , **IoSolUno** , and **demon19027** for the reviews! And everyone favoriting and following get tiny sparkles!

* * *

 _April 4, 2005_

* * *

Half-starved, Angel tried not to listen to the thumping of the human hearts all around them. Instead he stared, incredulous, at the ill-dressed thing before him. Everything about it smelled off, but what _exactly_ it was he couldn't say. It wasn't a demon like it claimed, but it definitely wasn't human. "What do you want from me?" the vampire finally asked.

"I want you to see something," Whistler responded. "We'd have to leave now. You see, and then you tell me what you wanna do."

"Where is it?"

"Not it. Them. A family."

* * *

 _April 8, 2005_

* * *

The little blonde was attractive and vivacious, but she had neither the sultry mystery of Darla nor the titillating madness of Drusilla. At that reminder, Angel swallowed the gorge in his throat. He washed it away by peering carefully out into the sunlight from the beaten up Chevrolet that he'd stolen and blackened the night before.

Whoever she was, she was blithely unaware of anything other than her lollipop and the search for whatever boy she'd mentioned. She did, however, keep glancing at his car with an odd expression on her face.

Eventually, the young man she'd been waiting for arrived. A tall, lanky college-aged boy wearing a backpack knelt down in front of her and yanked the candy from her mouth. "Boo."

"Sam!" the girl cried and threw her arms around the man's neck. This was definitely not the supposed, belly crawling boyfriend; this was someone unexpected, someone loved.

"Hey, Buffy. What're you doing here?"

"Queen Buffy is waiting for a peasant," she replied haughtily. The girl stuck her hand out as if waiting for the man to kiss it.

"Your brother is not kissing your hand," Sam replied wryly. He took the proffered fingers and lifted her to her feet instead. "Come on. I just got off the bus and I'm starved."

"Spring for a Starbucks and you got a date."

When an older man in a tweed suit approached them, the boy was immediately on alert. Sam stuffed his sister behind him as the man asked, "Buffy Summers?"

"Yeah?" she answered. Then, perplexed, added, "Hi! What?"

"I need to speak with you."

Sam crowded the man, his height allowing him to loom over the stranger. "Go away."

"But there isn't much time!" the flustered man explained. "She has a destiny."

"I don't have a destiny," Buffy said. "I'm destiny-free. Really!"

Angel lifted his eyebrows when Sam threatened the man with the purloined lollipop. If the vampire didn't know any better, he'd have thought the boy was handling a blade, especially when the sticky circle was jabbed into the stranger's whiskers. "I said: go away."

Reluctantly the man backed up, the candy still stuck under his chin. His gaze didn't leave the girl as the siblings walked away. Buffy began nattering on about this and that to her brother, oblivious, while Sam snuck glares backwards.

Angel had seen enough. He drove away.

* * *

The boy apparently went to Stanford and was here on a weekend visit. Buffy and her family had a relatively pleasant dinner late in the afternoon. There was some odd tension between the boy and his father, but other than that it looked oddly normal. As it was Friday, the teenaged girl was allowed an evening excursion with her friends while Sam elected to stay home to work on a paper.

Angel followed Buffy surreptitiously, the dark allowing him to ditch the car. She was cutting through the local cemetery, intent on going to a friend's house before heading to a local underage club, when the stranger from before waylaid her. He introduced himself as Merrick and gave a lengthy explanation to his presence. The vampire's suspicions were confirmed: the man was a Watcher.

This girl was the _Slayer_.

Her disbelief over Merrick's proclamation vanished in the wake of the sudden appearance of a local vampire. The Watcher tossed her a stake and shouted instructions. Buffy, the newly endowed Slayer, fumbled and shrieked but was eventually successful.

Angel sighed in relief. Merrick and Buffy talked for a long while about what was happening to her and why before she abandoned her entertainment plans and walked home, stunned.

Home was of little comfort. Her mother merely sighed and criticized her friends when Buffy explained that her excursion ran later than expected. The woman gave her daughter a kiss on the forehead and left the room.

Unfortunately, that was when the mood turned sour. As Buffy stared blankly at the window, her mother and father began a conversation about their daughter's lateness that quickly escalated into a fight. "Just because you can't discipline her," yelled the father, "I have to be the ogre!"

"I am not having this conversation again," came the angry reply.

"No? Then how about we have a different one. How about we talk about your old boyfriend's son using our house like his personal hotel?"

"Do you want to throw him out? Just like his own father did? What kind of a man are you?"

"What kind of man leaves a woman to raise his daughter on her own? I've been providing for the two of you for years and he hasn't given one goddamn cent!"

So Sam wasn't Buffy's full brother and the father wasn't Buffy's father. Angel looked In the window next to Buffy's where the boy was sitting at a desk. He paused in his typing and tensed up. After a few seconds, he shook his head before continuing to jab the keyboard.

Buffy, however, was still standing sorrowfully. She was clutching herself and was trying not to dissolve into tears. Angel's heart filled with pity for the poor girl, but he couldn't understand why Whistler thought this was anything particularly special. Even if she was the Slayer, nothing unusual was occurring other than what might happen among any other dysfunctional family. The vampire related this point to the creature half an hour later as they met in a sewer tunnel at the edge of town.

"Maybe," Whistler said. "But you haven't seen the whole picture yet. Here." The thing handed over a folded map.

When Angel opened it, a red circle was scribbled over a patch of green within the Angeles National Forest. "What's this?"

"Just head there and look. You got a good amount of time before sunrise. I'll meet you here," Whistler said as he took out a red marker and circled a second area. "Okay? I promise. This ain't a waste of time."

Bemused, Angel merely nodded and headed back to where he'd parked his car.

* * *

The bastard had sent him after _hunters_.

Angel had had to make a meal of a raccoon to maintain some measure of strength in order to keep hidden. Mostly he accomplished it by keeping up in the trees. The problem was, these two were good. _Very_ good. Despite the fact that their main prey was a wendigo it was obvious that the vampire's presence hadn't gone unnoticed. Occasionally one of them would glance up in Angel's general direction with a pensive frown, but since he wasn't their primary target they let him be.

The pair had been in the woods already for a few days and quickly tracked and trapped the monster. After charbroiling the thing, the younger hunter let out a whoop. "Take _that_ you son of a bitch!"

The elder one was peering out into the darkness of the trees. "I don't like it."

"C'mon, dad. Enjoy the victory for a second."

"There's something else out there. We should check it out."

"Seriously? Dad, we've been here for three fricking days. It's probably just an animal or something."

"Yeah, maybe."

Father and son made certain the fire wouldn't spread and began hiking away. "You know," said the young man, "we're really close to Los Angeles."

"Yeah."

"We could drop by and see Buffy."

"Not this time."

"Okay, then let's go north and see Sam. Or am I the only kid of yours that gets to see your face?"

The father stiffened but made no other response. Angel's eyes widened. This was Buffy's father and other half-brother. The Slayer had family that were hunters! Did she know? Was she a hunter? No, impossible, especially after that performance in the graveyard.

"You ever gonna talk to him again?" the young man demanded. "Hell, you even gonna _mention_ him ever again?"

Angel watched the father back his son into a tree. The older man jabbed a finger into the other's chest and snarled, "Now you listen here, boy. I'm gonna say this once and then that's it. _Sam left us_. He decided to go off to that fancy school and fend for himself. So from here on out, don't bother trying to make this right because there ain't nothing you can do about it."

"Yes, sir."

"And you leave your sister out of this. Last thing she needs is to get dragged into this bullshit and going off getting herself hurt or killed. Got that?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good." The father stepped back, then, astonishingly quick, prepped the shotgun he'd been holding and fired right at Angel.

The vampire managed to jump to a higher limb to avoid the spray. He inwardly cursed at Whistler again. When he risked peeping down, the two were peering upwards in his general direction.

"We going after it?" asked the son.

"Nah, we're out of supplies. Just wanted to make sure that whatever it is knows we ain't easy prey."

The pair walked off silently. Apprehensive, they kept glancing about into the trees, but Angel had no intention of following them any further. Instead, he headed for the second location Whistler indicated. He was unsurprised to find the creature already there, his ridiculously outdated clothes made even more ludicrous by the natural surroundings. "She's gonna have it tough, that Slayer," the thing said without preamble as Angel landed nearby. "She's just a kid. The world's full of big, bad things, and some of it's swimming around daddy and her big bros."

"I want to help her," Angel murmured as he mentally catalogued all he troubling things he'd seen in the past twenty four hours. "I want… I want to become someone."

"God, jeez, look at you. She must be prettier than the last Slayer." Whistler shook his head. "This isn't gonna be easy. The more you live in this world, the more you see how apart from it you really are. And this is dangerous work. Right now, you couldn't go three rounds with a fruit fly!"

"Then why did you send me after hunters?" Angel groused.

Whistler ignored the question. "You ready then?"

"Yes. I'll learn from you." The vampire eyed the open collared, obnoxiously patterned homage to the late seventies that the creature was sporting. "But I don't want to dress like you."

Whistler threw up his arms and began heading for the road. "Again, you're annoying me. You're lucky we need you on our side."

* * *

 _May 28, 2007_

* * *

Whistler grit his teeth and watched the excavation from his hidden vantage point. He'd been hoping against everything that the damn Prophet was wrong, that this wasn't going to happen _now_ right before Dean Winchester's crossroads deal was going to come due.

Yeah, his superiors had said to just let that one go, that it _needed_ to happen, but Whistler had been watching the messed up little family for years now and had gotten pretty attached. Who wouldn't be? Plucky little Slayer and her self-sacrificing father and brothers gallivanting around and playing out a drama for the ages.

And now it was headed for an endgame.

The Prophet before this one had had his head way, way, way up his ass. He'd gotten all into his whole vision thing, quit being an accountant, started a business as a psychic, and began spitting out his prophecies as riddles because it made him look smarter than he was. That was why Whistler thought that he'd had to prep Angel to _prevent_ the emergence of Acathla. But with the vampire's soul soiled once again, it wasn't looking like that was in the cards.

Whistler sighed. He had his orders: he wasn't to interfere with either Angelus or Dean. Then again, nothing had been said about the Slayer.

Maybe there was a way to salvage this mess after all.

* * *

 **Author's Note** : Did anyone else know that Angel's stalker car was an Impala?

I think Whistler in the comics had further demony agendas but I changed him up. Mostly Buffy stuff will smoosh into Supernatural stuff, so we'll see what happens.


	31. Book II: Chapter 31

(4/20/2017) I don't think I've ever written so much dialogue. Is it a good thing or a bad thing?

Thank you **jkmp28** , **demon19027** , **IoSolUno** , **philly cheese dude** , **RHatch89** and **thedarkpokemaster** for the reviews! And all you favoriters and followers get some "leaves." Special ones.

* * *

It was two days before Dean's deal was due and they hadn't found anything new.

Bobby came roaring into town a few days after being called. Under the canvas on the back of his truck were trunks full of his supplies: phones, books, weapons, and various spell ingredients that he'd snatched up thinking they might be useful. Once they arrived at Giles' home, however, they discovered a logistics issue.

Giles' place was just too small. Both Bobby and the Watcher were used to living as bachelors, coincidentally immersed in the supernatural, and were therefore careless about space in their abodes. There was no way that Giles' piles of books would allow room for Bobby's piles of books without covering the entire floor.

The first meeting between the laconic hunter and the relatively verbose Watcher had the siblings desperately trying to hide their amusement.

"Ah!" Giles said genially. "Robert Singer, yes?"

"Bobby'll do just fine," replied the hunter as the two shook hands.

"Yes, yes of course. Sam and Dean tell me that you've been a hunter for many years now. Tell me, have things changed quite a bit since you started?"

"Not really. Monsters're out there, we kill 'em, same ol' same ol'."

The sparse answer momentarily flustered the Watcher. "I-I see. Well, I suppose you brought some extra books to research through. Do you happen to have the entirety of the Williams' Encyclopedia? I admit I've been looking for years for volumes seventeen and eighteen with no luck whatsoever."

"Nope."

"Pity, I was hoping that those were the ones that would fill in the blanks. I admit, it's quite refreshing to meet someone as well-versed in the mythology of these creatures. Did you study anywhere in particular? I hear that Harvard has turned out to be quite the resource for those looking into demonology, at least in the underground circles."

"Nope."

Giles blinked confusedly. "Really? Nowhere at all?"

"Nope. Say, is that whiskey you got there?"

"Ah, yes, scotch. Bushmill's actually. Would you care for some?"

The two proceeded to bond quickly, and less verbally, over liquor, but the difficulty presented by available space persisted. Ruby, surprisingly, severed the knot neatly by offering her own home for the hunter to live in. Agape, Buffy listened to the demon explain that she'd bought the home that Meg had once purloined and had been living several doors down from the Slayer for quite some time. Ruby assured the siblings that she'd cleaned up the other demon's mess and that the place was quite pleasantly livable.

The demon claimed to have been watching out for Buffy's well-being but no one believed her. After enduring condemnations and accusations (all of which she met with stony-eyed silence), Ruby extended the offer to both Sam and Dean. The Summers' home, while palatial, strained at the seams when Joyce was home, especially now that Dean was working literal graveyard shifts. The brothers took her up on the offer, suspiciously, and kept their gratitude over their new lodgings to themselves.

The house was bare but clean, Ruby having bought the place as an excuse to be nearby and, as a demon, had no need for food or sleep. Bobby, the three Winchester-Summers siblings, and Buffy's menagerie of friends scoured the local thrift stores and managed to find serviceable beds, couches, and kitchen knickknacks. Even Cordelia generously furnished the home by donating a year-old television; her father had apparently decided it was soon enough to get a fancy new one.

After assuring Joyce that their new lodgings were with a friend and that they would be at her daughter's beck and call, the brothers and their adoptive uncle settled in. Sam continued to work as a substitute teacher and Bobby spent his time alternatively helping other hunters over the phone and researching for a way out of Dean's demon deal.

Even though his siblings limited him to aiding Buffy on her nightly patrols, Dean actually appeared happy. The frequent vampire hunts had welcome respites in the form of a few spirits and a wayward werewolf (not Oz, but one that had strayed into town as a railway transient and hadn't expected to run into the Slayer). Even though the eldest brother grumbled about the lack of road trips and complained that his Baby wasn't seeing enough use, just the fact that he was doing what he was meant to do perked him up. The binges became far less frequent and the bed he fell into at night was more often than not his own.

But now, with his end date just around the corner, Dean's mood abruptly changed.

"Bacon?"

"No thanks."

Sitting at the Summers' breakfast table that Monday morning was Sam, Dean, Buffy, Bobby, and Joyce. Everyone but Joyce (who had presented the query and was unaware of the implications) stopped either mid-chew or with forks halfway towards their mouth.

"What?" the eldest brother asked indifferently. The others quickly resumed normal eating habits. Sam, however, eyed his brother's untouched eggs and third cup of coffee with trepidation.

After eating, Bobby stayed behind to help Buffy's mother clean up while the three siblings headed for the school. "I think Bobby likes your mom," Dean quipped.

"Wait," Buffy said, her face scrunching in disgust. "Like, _like_ like? Or just like?"

"He sticks around your place every chance he's got. Maybe you'll get to call Bobby 'dad.'"

"Ew! No way!"

Dean smirked down at his sister. "Maybe you guys'll move to South Dakota, settle in, become real small-town folk."

Buffy let loose a small shriek. "Oh no, we are going back right now and stopping this craziness," she declared as she spun on her heel.

Sam rolled his eyes as he turned his sister back towards the school. He then turned a pensive eye towards Dean. "What's wrong?"

"Huh?" came the eloquent answer. "What're you talking about?"

The brothers took several more steps before realizing that Buffy had stopped. Both of them turned and lifted their eyebrows at her. "I'm sorry," she said quietly.

"About?" asked Dean.

"I'm sorry we haven't found anything."

"Hey, no no no," Dean insisted as he walked back to her. He wrapped her in his arms. "We still got time. Hell, we got _days_ even. Don't be givin' up on me now."

Buffy clung to her big brother's sleeves and drew in a loud sniff. "Okay."

"Besides, I need to watch you fail all your finals at least once."

"Hey!" Buffy withdrew from the embrace and gave Dean a smack on the arm.

"Ow."

The Slayer made an indignant noise and continued on her way to school. A few steps in and she ended up in someone else's arms, someone decidedly neither male nor human.

Ruby and Buffy both staggered from the unintended collision. They eyed each other mistrustfully as the former rubbed her clavicle and the latter her nose. "Is there a reason you decided to stand right in front of me?" Buffy demanded.

"It wasn't on purpose," the demon replied scathingly. "Trust me." She then turned her attention towards the Slayer's brothers. "We've got a problem."

"When do we not?" Dean wondered.

"Run along, little girl," Ruby told Buffy.

"Oh no you didn't—" the teenager began as she started to lunge.

Sam grabbed his sister's elbow. "Tell Dean," he instructed. "We need to go or we'll be late." The middle sibling then dragged the youngest away without leaving room for the other two to object.

Suspicious, Dean folded his arms. "Well?"

Ruby stared petulantly after Sam and Buffy until Dean snapped his fingers in front of her eyes several times. "Hey!" the hunter barked. "I don't got a lot of time here, so don't be wasting it."

"Yeah? Well, you might be in luck. Or you might be dying early."

"Mind clearing that up?"

"Lilith is coming," Ruby said, fear tinging her words. "There's something here that got her attention."

"And?"

The demon threw her hands up. "I don't know anything more than that. The word's out that I'm working with you three idiots so it's not like I get regular updates. All I know is that she's coming." She jabbed the hunter in the chest. "Either you get her while she's here and get that stupid contract of yours nullified, or she swings by and picks up your sorry soul on her way to whatever it is she's looking for."

"And you got no idea what that is."

Ruby shook her head. "No. All I know is that it's big, it's powerful, and it's nothing good."

* * *

Giles was out at the university, having been called to help identify a relic that had been discovered on the edge of town, leaving Buffy a Slayer-free afternoon in which to study with Willow. They appropriated Sam's classroom to prepare for their algebra final the next morning. Grumbling, the erstwhile hunter made room on the large front desk by scooting over to one side.

"You could sit at one of those," Buffy offered as she pointed to one of the school's standard desk and chair combos.

With all the indignation he could muster, Sam glared. "How?"

"Oh, right, you can't because you're ginormous."

Sam rolled his eyes and resumed grading finals. After Willow patiently lead Buffy through an equation, she let her friend do one on her own. A few minutes later, the Slayer tossed her pencil down with a frustrated cry. She complained about her ineptitude and concluded with, "When am I ever going to need chemistry or history or math or the English language?"

Willow began giving her friend both encouragement and further aid while the forgotten writing utensil rolled down a binder and between the main desk and the printer table. "I got it," Sam called. When he leaned over to retrieve the item, his fingers brushed against a small, rectangular object. He brought up a dusty portable USB drive.

"What's that?" asked Willow.

"Dunno," Sam replied. "Scoot." He popped open the cover and, after the two girls had moved their chairs away, inserted the item into his laptop. "Probably something of Jenny's," he said as he tried to open the files.

"This feels really morbid," Buffy commented.

"Says the girl who spends her nights in graveyards," her brother said. "What's this? 'Restoration'?"

"Ooh!" Willow cried excitedly. "Maybe it's one of her spells? I mean, she wasn't a practicing witch but she did dabble."

Sam double clicked on the file. A homemade program came to life. It was nothing fancy, Miss Calendar having forgone function over form. Images of a scanned text, something runic, and, judging by the page's yellowed and slightly torn appearance, ancient filled the left side of the screen. Sam clicked his mouse again and a page of text appeared on the right. An automated square periodically flashed over one of the runes and a portion of the right hand words changed.

"Buffy," Sam murmured, eyes wide. "Do you see what this is?"

"Oh, boy," Willow gasped. "Oh, boy. Oh, boy."

* * *

They decided to hold conference in the library. Sam called in Bobby and Dean, and Buffy did the same with Xander and, peripherally, Cordelia. Willow wanted to invite Oz as well, but his van had apparently had a blowout. He and his band were stuck on Highway 5 in an area he fondly called "post-apocalyptic." The boy assured his girlfriend that help was on the way and that they'd keep an eye out for super mutants and deathclaws.

"She said it couldn't be done," Giles was saying quietly.

"Well, she tried anyway," Buffy said. "And it looks like it might have worked."

"So Angel killed her before she could tell anyone about it," Xander growled. "What a prince, huh?"

"This is good, right?" Cordelia wondered. "I mean, we can curse him again."

"Hold on there, girly," interrupted Bobby. He scratched under his cap as he peered at the printout Sam had made of Jenny Calendar's work. "This is some powerful magic we're talking about here."

"Between all of us we can handle it," Sam assured.

"Wait," Dean said at the same Xander snapped, "Are all of you nuts?" The two glanced at one another. Xander quickly conceded.

"Why are we talkin' about making him all better?" Dean growled.

"Yeah," Xander added. "So it restores Angel's humanity. Here's a thought: who cares?"

"I care," Buffy said quietly.

"Care about what?" Dean snapped. "A murdering monster? Don't you remember him tearing apart Jenny's uncle?"

"And Miss Calendar, too," Xander said. "All is forgiven? What is wrong with you people?"

"Curing Angel seems to be Jenny's last wish," Giles offered.

"Yeah? Well, Jenny's _dead_."

Furious, Giles swiped off his glasses and stormed towards Xander. "Don't you _ever_ speak of her in that tone again!" he shouted.

Xander's equally heated response was drowned under a a chorus of objections and additives to the conversation. Sam and Dean were yelling at one another over the idea, Bobby in between trying to roar them both to silence; Cordelia was defending Xander (who was still engaged with Giles); while Willow alternatively attempted to interrupt Sam and Dean, and then Xander and Giles. Buffy was stuck standing in the middle, her hands clenched, but as she prepared to scream her objection to the scene a new voice cried out, "Will all of you _shut_. UP!"

Instant quiet descended. Ruby was standing at the library doorway, dumbfounded. "What the hell is going on?"

"We found a cure for Angel," Buffy replied.

"And we've got a little bit of a disagreement on what to do next," Sam added.

"Yeah? Big whoop. You guys got a bigger problem. Remember that thing I said Lilith was after?" the demon asked Dean. "I found out what it was. It's a thing called Acathla."

"You sure about that?" Bobby wondered suspiciously.

"Yes."

Troubled, Giles headed for his office. They heard him pick up his land line and dial. As the Watcher held a discreet conversation, Buffy, confused, asked, "Why is this alfalfa thing so bad?"

" _Acathla_ ," Ruby corrected caustically.

"If it's really that thing," said Bobby, "then we need to be findin' it and gettin' rid of it pronto."

"Why?" asked Sam.

"It's a portable gateway to Hell. As in, wherever it opens that spot becomes demon central."

"That seems… redundant," Willow commented. "Aren't we sitting on Hell-gate central?"

"This here's _the_ Hellmouth. It ain't opening unless something forces it to and that something's gotta be big. This Acathla thing, though, just needs the right mumbo jumbo and you got yourself a heap of trouble."

"We've got further issues," Giles proclaimed as he returned from his office. "The university's curator is dead and the artifact is missing. Vampires."

"Are we really sure it was this Akbar thing?" Buffy asked doubtfully.

"It's a trap!" Xander cried.

"Acathla," corrected her Watcher as Dean wiped a hand over his mouth to hide a snicker. "And yes, particularly if, um… if Ruby is claiming so."

"I don't get it," Dean said. "What's the big deal? Not like this'll be the first time we've sat in front of a Hellgate. The freaking Hell _mouth_ opened right over there!"

"The issue is its function," explained Giles. "It doesn't just create an opening; it creates a vortex. The story goes that a demon exchanged power with a coven of witches to facilitate its construction. It's unknown precisely what occurred afterwards, but the demon was subdued by a legion of knights and the object was entombed by a group of priests."

"Monks," Ruby corrected. "They were monks."

Everyone's eyes shifted to the demon. Cordelia irritably demanded, "And you know this because…?"

"It wasn't a coven, either," Ruby continued (ignoring the query). "It was a witch. Singular. And the demon didn't know what she'd intended, only that for her power he owned her soul."

"And what did this witch intend?" Sam asked curiously.

"To save someone she loved, someone that had sold their own soul in a crossroads deal to save another who'd died from the plague. The witch thought if she could construct a gate to Hell then she could go in and fight her way to the Pit to rescue him."

"And?" asked Buffy.

Ruby gave her a withering look. "What do you think? She failed _spectacularly_. The thing she made didn't just open a gate; it created a vacuum. She and everyone nearby were sucked straight into Hell."

"Until the, er, monks managed to trap the object," Giles added. "If someone were to open the thing now…"

"Complete and utter Hell-suckage," finished Xander.

"Awesome," Sam remarked. "And let me guess: Angelus and Drusilla are the ones that got the curator," he said, then turned to Ruby, "and Lilith's going to go recruit them or something."

"I'd assume so," the demon replied.

The group went silent as they contemplated the overwhelmingly horrific possibilities. "Fuck it," Dean finally said. "I got maybe a grand total of thirty hours left. Let's do this."

"Dean," Sam began to plead.

"Shut it! Jeeves, what do we got?"

"The curse," Buffy answered before her Watcher could form a sentence.

"And we're not straight up ganking Angel's ass because…?"

"Oh, I'll kill him," assured the Slayer. "But if I don't get there in time, or if I lose, then we need a backup."

"I want to help," Willow offered quietly. "I've been looking at this spell and-and-and I think I can work some of it."

"Willow," Sam said cautiously, "magic's not something you want to go into lightly."

"Oh I'm all about no-lightly. I'm definitely of the yes-heavy. But I'm going to do it."

"Well," Giles sighed, "I suppose we can gather ingredients and do some research into how to stop Acathla from opening."

"Any idea what the ritual is?" Sam asked Giles.

"Yes," replied the Watcher. "Let's just hope Angel doesn't."

* * *

"It's a big rock," Spike said dryly from his (now faked) convalescence. "Can't wait to tell my friends. They don't have a rock this big."

The rectangular object filled a good portion of the center of the abandoned mansion's living room. It smelled of dirt and age and something unspeakably vile. Spike dearly hoped than when Angelus' two cronies were done jacking the thing open it wouldn't be a corpse of some sort; that would just be messy.

The front fell with a tremendous crash and spread dust and debris in a wide circle. When the air cleared, Acathla stood before them in all his gargoyle-ish glory; a pock-marked demonic figure, mouth agape and arms crossed across its chest, with nothing more to suggest that it was anything but a crudely wrought sculpture. If it Drusilla hadn't begun crooning at the sight, Spike would have been glad to let Angelus know just how stupid all of this was.

"He fills my head," the female vampire moaned. "I can't hear anything else!"

"Let me guess," Spike wondered. "Someone makes with the hoodoo, the mouth opens wider, wackiness ensues."

"He will swallow the world," Drusilla sang delightfully.

"And every living creature on this planet will go to Hell," Angelus added in sadistic anticipation.

"Yay!" a child cried from the doorway. "That sounds so fun!"

Spike swiveled his chair around to face the newcomer. "Oh, bloody hell."

"Hi!" Lilith said with a wave and a grin. "Can I play, too?"

* * *

 **Acknowledgement** : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episode "Becoming, Part I" (BtVS 2.21).

 **Author's Note** : Ruby might be talking about herself. Or her buddy next door with the dog. You never know.


	32. Book II: Chapter 32

(4/28/2017) Okay, look. If you're going to leave a bad review, then whatevs. It's your opinion and you're entitled. But at least have a login so I can respond. Also, getting all judgy before you've even finished everything that's written? On this and my other crossover? _Rude_.

Rant over. Sorry, got irritated. On with the mayhem!

Thank you **jkmp28** , **philly cheese dude** , **RHatch89** , and **thedarkpokemaster** for the reviews! And all you favoriters and followers get sprinkles!

* * *

They decided to attempt the curse the following night. For one, the local apothecary wasn't open until the morning. For another there was a far more pressing problem.

Dean had begun to flinch at everything. Reluctantly, he explained that he'd begun to see things. Awful, indescribably ghastly things. Ruby quietly explained that it was because, at least for Dean, the veil between this world and the next had thinned. It made it easier for the Hellhounds to find someone that was straddling the border than it was to find someone purely within the living.

The look of pity the demon gave Dean nearly shattered his thin veneer of bravery.

Instead of sleeping, the group did their best to cram in as much research as possible. They searched for everything they could about demons and Hell, scouring books they'd read a million times before, scrutinizing even the most minute details in an effort to ascertain something that might have been missed. Giles and Bobby drilled Ruby over and over again, repeating questions to see if they'd get new answers and asking about the most unlikely subjects. To her credit, she managed not to kill either of them though her desire to do so was clear.

At one point, Giles pondered, "Well if there are demons there must be angels."

Sam glowered at Dean when he snorted in disbelief. "Yeah, right," the eldest brother said.

Ruby merely shrugged. "Never seen one."

"Well, it was a faint possibility," sighed the Watcher tiredly before he resumed reading.

By the time the sun had risen, the teenagers (other than Buffy) had flopped over onto whatever surface had been handy, Bobby had returned to their house to get a few more books, and Sam had started using his laptop for a pillow. Ruby had taken to pacing, Buffy to whittling stakes (and now had a good dozen or so piled in front of her); Giles continued muttering to himself as he pored through another book, and Dean had gently extracted Sam's laptop from underneath his brother's arms. He had been perusing free pornography in the librarian's office since the small hours of the morning.

"Damnit, Dean!" Sam snapped as he barged into the room and slapped his computer closed.

"It's my last day on Earth!" Dean complained. "I doubt they got T&A in Hell."

Sam sighed and sat down near his brother. "What are we going to do?"

"Run," Ruby supplied from the doorway.

"Run where?" Sam asked bitingly.

"Anywhere. Far. Surround yourself with goofer dust and devil's traps. It'll give us more time."

Sam's eyebrows lifted. "Because that worked so well for Bela and all those other people."

The demon lifted her arms then dropped them, exasperated. "Hey, I'm trying."

"Okay, I got something," Dean said. He stood up and stuck his palm out towards Ruby. "Your knife."

"Excuse me?"

"That knife you got. The one that kills demons. Give it."

"No."

"Why not?" Sam asked.

"Because it's not enough."

"Then what is?"

"You."

"Excuse me?"

"Sam, you've got some God-given talent. Well, not 'God'-given but you get the gist."

"Wait a minute," Dean interjected. "Are you talking about all that psychic crap? Sam hasn't had a vision since we killed yellow-eyes."

"It's not _gone_ ," Ruby replied acidly. "It's dormant. And there's so much more he could do. He could wipe Lilith of the map right now without lifting a finger."

"That's bullshit."

"Look," the demon said as she turned to Sam. "You don't like being different. You're afraid that it makes you some kind of sideshow freak. But suck it up because we've got a lot of ground to cover, and we've got to do it fast. But we _can_ do it and I can show you how."

Dean barked, "Hah!" then stood up to confront Ruby. "That's why you been sticking around, huh? So you can become Sam's slutty little Yoda?"

Dean's voice was rising, catching the attention of both his sister and her Watcher and jerking awake the others. "To Dagoba!" Xander cried sleepily.

"You're not teaching him anything," Dean snarled as he backed Ruby into the doorframe. "What you're going to do is give me that knife."

"Screw you," Ruby tossed back. "Your brother is carrying a bomb inside of him and we'd be stupid not to use it."

"Hold on," Cordelia said. "Buffy's brother is carrying a _bomb?_ Is it in the car? Why aren't we just straight up nuking the vampires instead of bothering with these stupid stakes?"

"I'm fairly certain it's not a _literal_ bomb," Giles explained.

"She has a point," said Ruby. "We aren't using him to his full potential and I know how to bring it out!"

"Now hold on—" Sam began.

"Are we talking about that psychic stuff?" Buffy wondered. "Because from what I remember being psychic boy wasn't a whole lot with the fun-ness."

"Yes," Ruby responded. "But _you_ —" she uttered as she poked Dean in the chest, "are holding him back!"

"No," Dean refuted, "I'm preventing _you_ from turning him into your own personal anti-Christ Superstar!"

"All I want," the demon said, teeth clenched, "is Lilith dead."

"Why?" asked Buffy.

"What?"

"Why do you want Lilith dead?"

Ruby let loose an exasperated sigh. "What I'm trying to do," she said in a patronizing tone, "is save all of your sorry asses. And if you want to save Dean before he becomes Hellhound shit then this is the way to do it!"

Dean smirked down at the demon. Then, to everyone's surprise, he reached back and punched her in the face.

Ruby staggered a few steps and wiped blood from the corner of her lip. Sam drew breath to plea for calm, but the demon was having none of it. The next instant saw Ruby launching herself into an all out, no-holds brawl with Dean.

Everyone shouted, but Ruby's inhuman strength and Dean's unbridled rage kept them from physically intervening. Even Buffy couldn't find an opening into the melee without harming her brother. Frustrated, she prepared to knock both of them out when Dean shoved the demon into the caged locker where Giles kept some of their weaponry (and Oz spent full moons snarling at whomever had watch duty).

"The hell you grinning at?" the demon angrily demanded of Dean.

Buffy's eldest brother wiped blood from the corner of his mouth with one hand. The other lifted to show Ruby's purloined dagger. "Missing something?"

"I'll _kill_ you, you son of a _bitch_ ," she snarled as she rammed into an invisible barrier. Dean pointedly looked down at the floor and the demon spotted the devil's trap that had been painted at the storage area's doorway as a precaution.

Giles handed Dean a handkerchief to wipe at his wounds as the remainder of the group headed for the library's back door. "Wait!" Ruby cried, indignant. "You're just going to leave me here?"

Xander opened the door as the demon shouted, "Then _fine!_ You deserve Hell! I wish I could be there, Dean. I _wish_ I could smell the flesh sizzle off your bones! I WISH I COULD BE THERE TO HEAR YOU SCREAM!"

Her imprecations continued even after the door was shut. Dean began to show off his ill-gotten weapon by flipping it about only to have it snatched mid-air by his sister. "Hey!"

Buffy peered closely at the runes scribed on both sides of the blade. "What _is_ this?"

"Oh!" Giles exclaimed interestedly. "May I?" His Slayer handed it over. "It's Kurdish, very old."

"From Kurdland?" asked Xander.

"They're a Middle Eastern people, quite ancient. This is specifically wrought to kill demons. Fascinating!" Giles looked up at Dean. "Where did she get this?"

"Dunno," he replied. "Don't care. All I know is that we can gank Lilith with the thing."

"Hopefully," Sam added cautiously.

"Good!" Buffy exclaimed. "Now all we need to do is find her."

"If-If we find Angel," Willow postulated, "we find Lilith. Right? Because Ruby said she wants Acathla and we think Angel took it."

"So let's do it quick before he discovers the ritual," proclaimed the Slayer. She brightened slightly. "Or maybe we'll go to Hell and I don't have to take my finals!" Her face fell. "Or maybe I'll be taking them forever."

* * *

Lilith had brought with her the parents and grandfather of her meatsuit, a phenomenon that had the vampires initially perplexed. Spike dryly observed that it was like caging a dog then wafting a steak at it. They capitulated, amused, once they realized how deeply traumatized the adults were. Cause for even further delight occurred when, after the usual rude introductory exchange, the demon rounded upon the old man in a petulant fury.

"Grandpa," Lilith said in a deceptively sweet tone. "Why did you try to ask the man at the store for help?"

The parents froze as the grandfather tried to smile gamely. "I don't know what you mean, sweetheart."

"Did you know about this?" the demon asked the mother. The woman shook her head fearfully. After receiving the same glare, the man repeated the gesture.

The child's face darkened. She spun on her heel to look at Drusilla and asked pleasantly, "Auntie, do you want to play?"

"Oh, yes!" the vampire exclaimed. She clapped her fingers in glee. "I have the prettiest dolls."

"But aren't you hungry?"

"The dollies shan't be cross if we are a little late." With the crunch of shifting bones, Drusilla's face warped. The mother gave a shriek that was quickly stifled by her husband's hand. In another moment the vampire was on the grandfather, her fangs burying hungrily into the man's neck. He didn't even had the time to scream.

Drusilla drank her fill then tossed the remains to their flunkies. She then grasped Lilith's hand and began leading the child away to her boudoir and her collection of porcelain dolls. Lilith eagerly followed, the "mother's" wrist in her supernaturally strong grip, leaving the father to stand awkwardly amidst the monsters. Angelus gave the poor man a hearty snarl in warning before turning his attention to more important matters.

"Can't help but notice, mate," Spike said lazily. "We been standing around with our pretty rock here and nothing's been done."

"There's a ritual involved," Angelus pondered as he walked around Acathla.

"And?"

"And what?"

"And what is it?"

"Not sure." The elder vampire smirked. "But I bet I know who does."

* * *

Giles promised to not let Ruby out, at least until she had gotten over her bout of temper over Dean's thievery, while Sam and the teenagers miserably headed into their third day of finals. Having nothing better to do, Dean headed for home to check on Bobby and fill him in on Acathla and Angel. Afterwards, the eldest of the siblings had himself what he assured was _not_ going to be his last beer and turned on what was _not_ going to be his last set of reruns and settled down to wait.

The others piled into the house at around four commiserating with one another over their respective exams. Surprisingly, Giles had Ruby in tow. He explained that since the demon had extensive magical knowledge they would be stupid not to utilize her. She glared venomously at Dean (who returned the look in kind) but otherwise made no move to either reclaim her lost property or to take retribution.

After settling, all of them gathered around the splintered table that served Ruby's houseguests for dining, planning, and (in Sam's case) grading and tried to form a plan.

"We should shore up defenses here," Sam said. "Just in case. Devil's traps, salt at the windows and doors, the works."

"And what am I supposed to do, idiot?" snapped Ruby.

"Be careful?" Dean replied caustically.

"Right," Buffy said firmly. "Xander, Cordelia: you two start with the salt lines and the magic circles. I have stakes. So," she wondered as she turned towards Ruby, "can you make with the magic and show us where they're at?"

"Yes, but I'll need ingredients."

"I'll get them!" Willow volunteered eagerly.

" _I'll_ get them," the demon refuted. "But I'll need a map of the city."

"Gotcha covered," Bobby said.

"Make sure you let me back in," Ruby warned before walking out the front door.

Xander headed for the kitchen for a hefty bag of salt while Sam handed Cordelia two spray cans and a sheet of paper. "Make sure these are _exactly_ right," the hunter warned.

"I can draw doodles," the girl scoffed before heading up the stairs.

"What about the curse?" asked Buffy.

Willow held up her backpack. "Got everything right here. Giles even had an Orb of Thesulah in his office for some reason."

"It made a fine paperweight," the Watcher clarified defensively.

"How long to get it all ready?" Buffy asked.

"An hour."

"Good. Get started." The Slayer turned towards her eldest brother and started when she saw his nauseated expression. "What?"

Dean swallowed hard. "Nothing."

"Then why are you looking at me like that?"

"Can't a guy look at his own sister for the last time?"

"Oh for—" Buffy threw her hands up and let them drop. "You're not going to die tonight, okay? We're going to find Lily and alfalfa and nothing's going to happen."

"Lilith and Acathla," Sam corrected wearily. "In the meantime, I'll get some food. Anybody got a preference?"

"Burger, extra onions," Dean announced happily.

Sam opened his mouth as if to object (the stench of his brother's breath after the requested meal was corrosive) then thought better of it. He grabbed a scrap of paper and a pen, jotted down everyone's fast food requests (getting Cordelia and Xander's by shouting up the stairwell), and headed out.

Dean stared after his brother and then glanced over at his sister. He wanted to tell her, he really did, that he'd seen something beneath her face. Something… not quite right. It wasn't the same as when he'd seen Sam's face distort and jerk unnaturally earlier in the morning; it was more savage, more brutal, and it _screamed_. But there would be time to solve that mystery later. Tomorrow. There would always be tomorrow.

"Weapons," Buffy was saying.

"Holy water," Dean suggested.

"On it," Bobby said and headed outside to his truck.

"I'll get shotguns and salt rounds," Dean told Buffy and followed the elder hunter.

Buffy looked up at her Watcher. "Is this going to work?" she asked quietly.

"Your guess is as good as mine," he replied with a sigh.

"Well." Buffy looked proudly on the table at the veritable mountain of stakes she'd whittled throughout the night. "At least we'll be prepared."

* * *

Meals were eaten and spells were prepped just as darkness fell. With great anticipation, the entire group gathered at the table once again as Ruby smoothed down Bobby's map and lit a match. She spat a line of Latin and touched the flame to the paper's corner. The fire, which ignored the wooden tabletop, consumed the map with preternatural speed and left only a tiny burnt square before snuffing itself out. Buffy snatched it up and peered closely at it. "That can't be right."

"What?" asked Sam.

"Ruby," the Slayer chastised, "this is _this_ house!"

The demon paled. "Oh no."

Someone rapped politely on the front door. Everyone stared fearfully in its direction. Giles apprehensively crept forward and slowly opened the door.

"Hello?" he asked the stranger.

"Hey, Miss Patterson!" Xander called cheerfully. "She lives down the street," he explained to Bobby and Sam.

"And goodbye," Dean said as he slammed the door shut. When he saw the others' startled expressions, he explained, "Demon."

"How…?" Giles started to ask.

"I could see her face. Somehow."

Bobby frowned deeply. "You got, what, five hours left?" After Dean nodded, he continued. "You're tearing that veil more and more, son. At least it's something we can use to our advantage."

Whatever Dean was about to add was interrupted by a vicious snarl and the thump of a body slamming up against the doorway. "Vampires," said the Watcher.

"And demons," Ruby breathed.

"And us," Xander quipped, his voice unnaturally high. "Oh my!"

Dean glanced over at Ruby then jerked his head back to her and stared, wide-eyed. "What?" she snapped.

"Nothing. I just… I couldn't see you before, but you're one ugly broad."

"Well, they can't get in," Willow said, forestalling Ruby's scathing rejoinder. "So that's good, right?"

"We need to get to Lilith," Sam insisted. He looked pointedly at his brother. "We don't have much time."

"Dean," Buffy began worriedly. She was cut off by the sound of shattering glass from above.

"Didn't you salt the windows?" Sam yelled at Xander.

"Yes!" the boy replied, panicked. "Even the little one in the bathroom! Cordy was supposed to double check after she finished with the traps."

"Shit," Dean suddenly uttered. Presumably spooked by something outside, the others peered out of the nearest window. When they saw nothing truly untoward, they realized that he wasn't staring at the congregation of demons and vampires.

He was looking at Cordelia.

She blinked. Her eyes filmed over in black.

"Oops," she said, smiling coyly.

* * *

 **Acknowledgement** : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episodes "No Rest for the Wicked" (SPN 3.16) and "Becoming, Part I" (BtVS 2.21).


	33. Book II: Chapter 33

(5/6/2017) I kept rewriting how this was going to go because, you know, I made things all difficult on myself by forming pretty much a whole new scenario. Now it's just super long.

Thank you **philly cheese dude** , **thedarkpokemaster** , **demon19027** , **IoSolUno** , **RHatch89** , and **jkmp28** for the reviews! And all you favoriters and followers get Krispy Kreme's!

* * *

The thing in Cordelia stretched, grotesquely flaunting the young girl's form, before blinking her eyes back to their normal brown. Xander, who had been standing closest, shuffled quickly away from his girlfriend's body. "Oh, lover," the demon purred, "come back. There's so much of this body that you haven't seen yet."

Cordelia's tongue flicked out and licked her lips. "I'm going to barf," Xander said as he grabbed a stake from the table.

"Get out of her," Dean snarled as he withdrew Ruby's knife from an inside jacket pocket.

The demon chuckled and began walking towards the door. "Or what? You'll kill me? You'd kill your sister's friend just to get to little old me? She's still in here, you know, all screaming and yelling like the bitch she is."

"What do you want?" Buffy demanded.

"Oh, nothing really," she said blithely. "I was just sent here to pass along a message. By the way, Ruby," she continued as she waved Cordelia's finger back and forth, "you've been _very_ naughty. Lilith told me to tell you that you're due for a _spanking_."

Ruby backed up a few steps, her widened eyes searching futilely for an escape, as the other demon laughed. Footsteps thumped down the stairs as the two demons who had broken in through the second floor window descended. "Now," said Cordelia as she focused her grin on Buffy, "the message is for you."

"Me? Why me?"

"Your lover-boy, Angelus? He's got other things to do than worry about some one night stand who keeps trying to kill him. He wants it done."

Buffy clenched her teeth. "Where?"

"Pine Grove Cemetery."

"When?"

"Now."

Buffy and her brothers exchanged bewildered glanced. "Why now?" asked Sam.

"Because here's the deal." The demon bent Cordelia's lips in the same smirk the girl used when she had thought of something particularly nasty to say. "The Slayer goes. Cordelia lives. And as a bonus, Dean doesn't spend his last few hours enjoying a preview of what he's going to experience in the Pit."

One of the other demons, currently riding a middle-aged fatherly looking figure, pulled a handgun from his waistband and pointed it at Cordelia's head. When Buffy deigned to answer, he pulled the hammer.

"Okay!" Buffy shouted. "Okay. I'll go."

"What?" Dean snapped. "Screw that!"

"Did I forget to mention?" Cordelia wondered slyly. "We've got demons watching Joyce, too."

Buffy stifled the scream she wanted to loose. She then ignored her eldest brother (who was busy carrying on a hushed, profanity laden argument with her younger brother), turned, and moved closer to her Watcher. "Do the curse," she whispered. He nodded back, grimly.

Sam finally managed to interrupt Dean by slamming a hand onto the other hunter's mouth. He then demanded, "And what are the rest of us supposed to do?"

"Wait," said Cordelia's demon with a smile. "Have some nice, peaceful last moments with big bro there."

Buffy tightened her grip on the stake in her hand. She whirled on Dean and told him, "I'll be back. Don't go anywhere."

"Not planning on it," he answered.

"Good." With a last furious glower for the demon, Buffy marched to the front door and yanked it open. She walked out and down the street without looking back.

Dean lunged after his sister, a move Sam had been expecting. He used all of his advantage in height to grab his brother's shoulders and force him into the nearest seat. "Don't."

Sullen silence answered. Sam turned towards Giles, knowing that Buffy had said something significant, and lifted his eyebrows. The Watcher was cleaning his glasses, but, in the guise of replacing them, faced pointedly at the kitchen where Willow had fastidiously prepped the soul cleansing curse. They exchanged a nearly imperceptible nod.

Now all they had to do was overcome three demons, prevent the horde of monsters outside from coming in, locate Lilith and force her to repeal Dean's deal, and then prevent Acathla from opening. All in the next two and a half hours.

Sam sighed. No big deal.

* * *

An inordinate number of people were out at night doing things that would almost have been normal; watering begonias, clipping hedges, chatting amiably at the borders of their houses. Except not only were these were daytime activities, but each and every one of her neighbors made Buffy's skin crawl in a way that they never had before.

Demons, every one of them.

Well, at least she knew. And there, across the street from her house, was Mrs. Singh, sitting peacefully on her front porch. Buffy shivered when between one glance and the next, her elderly Indian neighbor had gained black eyes. The woman smirked, an expression the shy homemaker had never worn, before focusing pointedly at Buffy's living room window.

Buffy paused a moment. Her mother was sitting on the couch, her hair haloed by the light from the television, waiting patiently for her daughter to come home from a study session with her big brother. The teenaged girl thought how comforting it would be to stop in for a moment, let warm arms wrap themselves around her, and have someone tell her that everything was going to be all right.

She shook her head, dispelling the fantasy. No, the only way this night would end on the sofa with a bowl of popcorn and matronly affection would be if they could stop Angelus and Lilith. Buffy walked on.

The cemetery wasn't far, but she hurried nonetheless. Dean's time was short; according to her phone it was just past ten. It was far past time for this mistake to be rectified; sparing Angelus had been a gross error in judgement. In the interim, he'd killed an unknown number of innocents including Giles' beloved Jenny Calendar. Now there would be no holding back. The Angel Buffy had known was gone.

She just hoped she could see through the face of the man she loved in order to slay the monster that was underneath.

* * *

"Are we really just going to sit here?" Xander hissed.

"No," Giles replied irritably. "We are trying to think of a way to do something without getting everyone killed."

After Buffy's departure the group settled down to wait. The dining table had only four chairs so Xander, Willow, and Ruby made do on the floor. Cordelia's demon lounged on the stairs while the other two blocked the front door. Their weapons had been confiscated and split evenly between the three creatures. The one who was charged with Ruby's knife grimaced in disgust before stuffing it into his jacket pocket.

"We need a distraction," Bobby whispered. "Then you lot can get in there and get the ball rolling."

"I say Ruby gets naked," Xander suggested eagerly.

"No," said the demon.

"I could get naked," the teenaged boy offered. The others made hushed denials with varying degrees of disgust.

After having been silent since his sister's exit, Dean finally uttered, "Fuck it," and stood up. He headed for the hallway and was immediately intercepted by one of the demons. "I need to piss," the hunter said.

When the demon remained in his way, Dean began fumbling at his zipper. "Okay, well, don't say I didn't warn you…"

"Oh for—" came Cordelia's voice, "just take him! Don't let him out of your sight."

Dean zipped back up and threw a smirk at his chaperone. He then walked towards the bathroom down the hallway.

Sam and Bobby exchanged knowing looks. "Get ready," the elder hunter mumbled.

Luckily, the demon that followed Dean was the one with the Kurdish dagger. After unzipping, the hunter lingered over the bowl. "It ain't coming if you're watching," he told his guard.

Dean gleefully watched the thing roll its eyes and turn around. He then gave several gratified moans while he urinated, much to the discomfort of the demon. The vocalizations hid the hunter's shuffling feet as, without interrupting his errand, Dean turned slowly towards his escort.

When moisture started pattering against his pants, the demon looked down, confused. Upon realizing the cause, he swiveled around angrily. Dean promptly planted his fist in the creature's face. He then reached swiftly into his opponent's jacket, yanked out Ruby's knife, and slammed it between two of the demon's ribs.

Hellish power illuminated the host's bones and highlighted the horrid visage that was the demon's true form. Fleetingly Dean hoped the man hadn't been anyone close to either Buffy or Joyce, but with barely an hour and a half to spare he wasn't about to quibble over such niceties. He stuffed himself back into his pants and tightened his belt before sneaking back down the way they'd come.

The demon in Cordelia was pacing, her face scrunched up with impatience, while the other demon was flipping a stake and looking bored. "Ugh!" grunted Cordelia. "How long does it take for a guy to pee?"

As if on cue, Dean lunged forward and plunged Ruby's blade into the side of the secondary demon. He let the body drop and grinned. "Didn't wash my hands. Sorry."

Cordelia's lips bent down in a grimace. "You wouldn't hurt this body."

"Lady, I'm heading downstairs in the next ninety minutes. You wanna come along for the ride?"

The demon considered a few moments more. It then wrenched Cordelia's mouth open and poured forth as she screamed. As the girl collapsed on the floor, the plume of black smoke stuffed itself into the unused fireplace and vanished.

"She okay?" Sam asked as Xander rushed to check on his girlfriend.

"Yeah," the boy said, relieved. "Just out."

"Go," Dean told Willow. She nodded and headed into the kitchen, Giles on her heels.

"We gotta fortify that room," Bobby warned. As Xander and Ruby shouldered Cordelia's limp form and followed Willow, Dean grabbed a spare can of spray paint from under the table. Sam shuffled through the dead demon's body and reclaimed their guns and ammo.

The three hunters hurried into the kitchen where Willow was lighting candles and Ruby was prepping ingredients. Giles was flipping through a book looking for the proper chant, while muttering to himself. At the same time, Sam grabbed a bag of salt from the cupboard and covered the window sills and doorways. Dean reloaded their guns and Bobby sprayed devil's traps around every conceivable surface. Weaponry was passed out just as the first body slammed against the door that led to the backyard.

Sam and Dean braced themselves against the door. "Can they get in?" the elder brother shouted over the noise.

Bobby fired his shotgun into the open living room doorway. "Hope not," he answered.

On the floor, Cordelia stirred. "What happened?"

"Demon," Xander said.

She sat up abruptly. "Uh oh."

"What?" groused Dean.

"I remember some stuff. Like about the house."

"What house?" asked Sam. "This one?"

"Yeah." She threw a frightened glance at the window and then at the door. "Ruby owns it, right?"

"Yeah, so?"

"She's not a person."

The brothers glanced at one another, then looked at Giles. "Dear Lord," said the Watcher. "I hadn't thought of that."

"What?" asked Bobby before firing again.

"Vampires cannot enter human dwellings without invitation. Except this isn't a _human's_ dwelling."

"And you three bozos don't think this is really home," Cordelia told the hunters.

"Crap," Dean cursed as a vampire crashed through the kitchen window.

* * *

Buffy had been walking around the graveyard aimlessly for what felt like forever. Finally, frustrated, she threw up her hands and dropped them. "I don't appreciate being stood up!" she cried into the darkness.

"Oh, lover," Angelus purred as he rounded a mausoleum. "You know I would never leave you hanging."

"Shouldn't you be trying to activate Wiz Khalifa or whatever his name is?"

"Well, I came to say goodbye." The vampire affected a mournful mien. "You are the one thing on Earth that I actually will miss."

"This is a beautiful moment we're having," growled Buffy. "Can we please fight?"

"Gosh." Angelus widened his eyes dramatically. "I was hoping we could get back together. What do you think? Do we have a shot?" After receiving a scornful look, the vampire answered himself. "No? Okay, let's fight."

* * *

They'd dusted who knew how many vampires and had killed at least one demon before the flow of enemies stopped. The ritual of restoration had been halted while its conjurers were fending off invaders. Xander had actually dusted two on his own. In the current lull, Giles and Willow sat back down and began to chant. "Not of the dead, nor not of the living," the girl began.

"Hi, Dean!" a child's voice called. The named hunter shuffled towards the shattered window panes and looked out. Sam, Xander, and Bobby joined him.

"Who…?" asked the younger brother.

Dean swallowed. "Her face, that little girl… it's Lilith."

"Are you sure?"

"Silly goose," Lilith said with a grin. "Of course it's me! And it's almost time to give me what's mine."

"Back off, bitch!" Dean shouted.

Lilith pouted. "Auntie Dru," the demon whined into the darkness. "he said a bad word."

Drusilla emerged, her mad eyes gleaming in anticipation. She took Lilith's small hand and smiled down at her. "It's all right," cooed the vampire. "I'll make certain the naughty man gets his punishment." She then reached out a hand and stroked the empty air on her other side.

To Xander, Sam, and Bobby the gesture was meaningless; another strange movement by the strange woman. Dean, however, paled. In response to their questioning looks, he swallowed and murmured, "Hellhound."

"Auntie Ruby," Lilith sang. "Olly olly oxen free!"

Nervously, Ruby approached the window. "I'm here. Let the humans go and I'll come out willingly."

The child was furious, but only for a moment. She suddenly brightened and waved an insouciant hand. "Oh, that's okay. You can stay right there."

"No—" Ruby tried to shout as Lilith's fingers curled into a tight fist. Horrified, the humans could do nothing as she vomited her demonic essence, her hands clutching desperately at her stomach. The black mist spilled on the ground, faint screams echoing weirdly against the wall, and, as if vacuumed, suddenly plunged downwards into the floorboards. Ruby's vessel collapsed as the last of the fog disappeared. Her eyes stared sightlessly at the wall.

"Oh Deaaaaaan," Lilith called happily. "Your turn!"

"Go fuck yourself!" the hunter replied.

Lilith pouted again up at her "Auntie Dru." The vampire smiled in anticipation before crying, "Go, boy! Fetch!"

The resulting snarls and barks were clearly audible to everyone. "Run!" Dean screamed. With Sam and Bobby's help Willow and Giles stood quickly and the group sprinted up the staircase to the second floor. Most of them ended up in what was Bobby's bedroom; Sam, Dean, and Giles ended up across the hall in Dean's.

Upon realizing that he had been separated from his fellow Sunnyvale natives, Giles tried to leave the room. Dean yanked him back before he could upset the line of goofer dust Sam had just finished laying down in the doorway. When the Watcher gave him an outraged glare, Dean merely said, "They're after me."

Just as predicted, the Hellhounds barked and scratched at their door and left the other one unmolested. "Laid down salt," Bobby yelled over the noise.

"Goofer dust here," Sam replied.

Frustrated, the Hellhounds stopped their ministrations and began to pace instead. They snapped their teeth irregularly in front of the door just to ensure that they weren't forgotten.

Dean pulled out his phone and looked at the time. 11:38pm.

"Oh God," Sam said, his breath hitching. He clutched his hair and paced. "I should have done what she said, I should have listened."

"Who?" Dean asked.

"Ruby! She said I could save you, that I had the power to do it! Why? Why didn't I just do it?"

Dean put a hand his brother's shoulder. With a cry, Sam lurched away. "No! I'm not letting you go to Hell!"

"Yes, you are!" Dean roared back. Then, calmer, repeated, "Yes, you are." He stepped back. "I'm sorry," he continued, his voice shaking. "I mean this is all my fault, I know that. But what you're thinkin' about doing, it's not going to save me. It's only going to kill you."

"What am I supposed to do?" Sam wondered tearfully.

Dean swallowed, remembering tiny little Sammy asking the same thing every time they had to leave a new school, every time he had to leave behind the scant number of friends he had made. The same damn question every damn time. At least for this one his big brother had an answer. "Keep fightin'. Take care of our sister. Take care of my wheels," Dean added only half in jest. "Remember what dad taught you."

"We have one slim hope," Giles interrupted quietly. "Buffy may still get here in time."

"See?" Dean gave his brother a half-hearted smile. "Nothing to worry about."

"Yeah," Sam said, unconvinced. "Sure."

* * *

Angelus tossed Buffy over a gravestone and threw his hands out. "Is it me, or is your heart really not into this? Maybe I should just go home, get to destroying the world."

The Slayer leapt to her feet then withdrew a stake. "Come on, let's finish this. You and me."

She flinched when the vampire began laughing. "What's so funny?" Buffy demanded.

"You never learn do you? Not everything is about _you_. In fact, none of this was _ever_ about you."

Angelus' hilarity rose when Buffy's face fell. They were after _someone else_ , someone she should have been protecting instead of prancing around with this monster. Who was it? Sam? Dean? Giles? Her friends? Her _mother?_

The Slayer dropped the stake and ran, the vampire's laughter chasing after her. She wasn't that far. She would make it. She had to make it. She would do this.

She would save them all.

* * *

Cordelia's nose wrinkled indelicately as she sniffed the air. "What's that smell?"

"Oh crap," Xander gasped.

"Gasoline," Bobby declared. He hurried to the window and yanked it open. The home was made similar to Buffy's; a secondary roof was right below the glass and left a footway for escape. "Everybody, out!"

"We just can't leave—" Willow tried to plead. Before she could finish, Bobby grabbed her by the collar and heaved her through.

"Am I gonna have to do the same to you?" the grizzly hunter asked the two other teens.

"Nope," Cordelia said promptly. The two teens slid after their friend.

Bobby, pained, tried to decide. He should stay; his boys were pinned by Hellhounds, Dean's fate was inching closer by the second. There had to be something he could do.

Then Cordelia screamed. That decided it. Sam and Dean knew how to take care of themselves; these children didn't. With regret and guilt heavy in his breast, Bobby followed the teenagers to the outside.

* * *

"Smell that?" Sam said quietly.

"Yeah," Dean replied. He walked to the window and jerked it open. "Both of you, go."

Sam began to tell his brother, "Dean, I'm not going to leave you to—" while Giles objected, "That's completely unnecessary—"

"No!" Dean barked. "I'm not letting you two die." His eyes glimmered with unshod tears. "Buffy's going to need you," he whispered.

A few moments passed as the men decided. Sam then turned to the Watcher. "Go."

"But—"

"Please."

Giles nodded hesitantly and eased himself out onto the roof. He gave Dean one last silent farewell before carefully lowering himself onto the backyard lawn.

"Sam," Dean began, exasperated.

"You'll have to push me out yourself," Sam said with a shaky laugh.

A repetitive beeping erupted from Dean's pocket. He brought out his phone and swallowed. "Midnight."

The brothers jumped when someone rapped on the door. Before either could react, the wood collapsed inwards, pushed off its hinges. A smiling Drusilla picked her way delicately over the shards and headed straight for Dean. Hellhound growls followed her in.

Sam tried to interpose himself between the two and a hound locked its teeth into his calf. He cried out in pain as the thing toppled him and dragged him into a corner.

Drusilla thrust her hand under Dean's chin and chanted, "Look at me, dearie."

The hand that had been ready to thrust the Kurdish knife into the vampire's heart went limp. Dean's features went slack while his eyes screamed defiance and fury. Shouting denials and curses, Sam swung vainly at the Hellhound holding him as Drusilla slowly slid her nails away from his brother's face and stepped back. Her malicious grin widened.

Then Dean fell backwards, hard, unseen creatures tearing into him, ripping his chest apart, tearing into his innards with sadistic glee. Claws raked down his chest, his legs, his face. Blood sprayed onto the walls, the floor, the man's shrieks stifled into gargling spurts by the red spilling from his mouth.

Sam screamed.

Drusilla blew a kiss at Dean then strode regally from the room. Someone lit the gasoline that had been liberally splashed about the downstairs floor.

Dean finally stopped struggling. At the same moment, Sam found his leg released. He crawled to his brother's body, his vision swimming. He gathered the shredded remains of his brother to his breast and tried to will Dean back to life.

Fire licked the doorway.

Someone burst in. Someone ignored Sam's pleas to let him stay and tried to tear him away from his brother's body. Someone hit him, hard, blackening his vision, before dragging him out of the window and dropping him down to the grass.

Footsteps approached. "Sam?" Buffy whispered as she knelt down beside her brother and his savior, Uncle Bobby. The elder hunter was doing his best to wrap a tourniquet around Sam's wound.

Wordlessly, Sam gazed up at his sister. The tears restarted slowly, but once they began they felt as if they would never stop. "He… He…"

Bobby gently put one hand on Sam's shoulder and another on Buffy's. "I'm so sorry," he whispered.

Someone was screaming in denial, weeping and wailing in turns. Until Sam sat up and wrapped his arms around her she didn't realize that the person making those horrific sounds was herself.

Dean was _gone_.

They hadn't saved him.

 _Their brother was in Hell_.

…And John Winchester's youngest children ignored the fire, ignored the ambulance, ignored the world to mourn the loss of his most beloved eldest son.

* * *

 **Acknowledgement** : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episodes "No Rest for the Wicked" (SPN 3.16) and "Becoming, Part I" (BtVS 2.21).

 **Author's Note** : I may or may not have borrowed from another Whedonverse at some point during this chapter.

The move Lilith uses in Ruby I sort of inferred from what Sam did to the demons around Famine. Just roll with me here, okay? ;)

Up next: more upsetting events!


	34. Book II: Chapter 34

(5/11/2017) That last chapter needs so much rewriting. Oh well. By the way, if you didn't get a notice about Chapter 33, jump backwards quick!

Thank you **RHatch89** , **jkmp28** , **demon19027** , and **thedarkpokemaster** for the reviews! And all of you favoriters and followers get BEES!

* * *

Sam heard sounds through a fog. There were sirens, the crackling of flames, the rush of water, sobbing. A man's voice saying… something. He had no idea what. There was a warm body in his arms, small fingers gripping his shirt. Moisture was soaking down to his skin. Buffy. It had to be Buffy.

That other voice was getting insistent, but the words were incomprehensible. Dully, Sam turned his head towards the bearded, grizzled face and narrowed his eyes in concentration. "Need… it… leg… on…" was all he could figure out. Never mind. It couldn't be important. Nothing could _possibly_ be as important as the gaping hole in his chest where his brother had been. Best thing to do right now was to curl up with his sister and let the world pass them by.

Bobby gave up on Sam and turned his attention to Buffy. "Come on now, girl," he said, gentle but insistent. "Get on up and help me get your brother to those doctors there before he bleeds out."

"I can't," she sobbed. "I can't, I can't, I can't."

"Yes, you _can_." Bobby abandoned soft compassion for hard love. He grabbed the Slayer's arm, yanked her from Sam's embrace, and pulled her to her feet. "Look at me," he said, gripping her upper arms. When she refused, he shook the girl and barked, " _Look at me_!"

Angrily, Buffy jerked away. Before she could object to her mistreatment, Bobby continued speaking. "Hold this," he said, placing Ruby's knife in her hand. "Listen, Buffy, we don't got time. Sam's bleeding pretty good here. Might not be as bad as it looks, but better safe than sorry." The older hunter choked back his own grief. "We… We got plenty of time to mourn later."

Buffy managed a nod as she dashed away the remnants of her tears. She shoved the blade carelessly into a jacket pocket, knelt down, and, in a show of strength discordant to her size, hoisted her big brother to his feet. Bobby slid under Sam's other armpit and the three of them hobbled towards the fire and medical crew that had arrived.

A crowd of gawkers had gathered around, but the presence of emergency personnel kept them back. The exception was a terrified Joyce Summers who spotted her daughter and pushed her way towards them. "Oh my God," she gasped as the responders began cutting away the bottom of Sam's jeans. "What in the world happened?"

"Electrical short," Bobby supplied. "Ruby wasn't as careful maintaining the place as she should've."

"Thank goodness the three of you made it out alive. Where's Dean? Is he okay?"

"Dean… um," stammered Buffy.

"He was out," Bobby inserted. "At a bar."

Joyce sighed. "Well for once I'm happy that he was out getting drunk." She put a hand on her daughter's face and asked, concerned, "Are you sure you're all right?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine." Buffy managed to dredge up a smile. "Go ahead and go home. I'll stay with Sam and make sure everything's all right."

Buffy's mother gave her a gentle smile in return. "You and the boys come sleep at my place, okay?" she told Bobby. "I'll make room."

"We'd be grateful, ma'am," he said.

"And let me know what they say about Sam as soon as possible," Joyce said to her daughter.

"I will," she replied. Joyce gave her a hug and another affirmation of her relief before walking away. Buffy watched the woman leave and wished she had the same comfortable blanket of ignorance regarding the night's events.

"I'm gonna go check on the others," Bobby said. He nodded towards the second ambulance.

"Okay." The elder hunter squeezed the girl's shoulder before heading off.

Buffy walked in the other direction to join her brother. When the EMT glanced up from his ministrations she explained her relationship to his patient and wondered about his status.

"He'll be fine," said the responder. "It looks worse than it is. Mostly just skin tears and such. I've got him stitched up but he'll need some medications for pain and to ward off infection. Was it some kind of dog?"

Buffy clamped down on a bout of maniacal laughter. "Some kind of dog, yes."

"Buffy?" Sam wondered groggily.

"I'm here," she said as she moved closer to his side.

"'M not goin' ambulance," he mumbled.

The EMT frowned. "You should really go to the hospital and get that checked out more thoroughly. There's a lot of nasty bacteria that hide in dog's mouths."

Sam lurched upwards, his tear-reddened eyes wide with misery and fury. He grabbed the other man's shirtfront. "I said: I'm not going."

Uncowed, the responder lifted his hands and shook his head. "Easy, man." He looked at Buffy after Sam had let go. "If he's not going to the hospital you need to watch him carefully. Any signs of fever you get him in a car and to the doctor."

"I will," she said.

The man retreated from his recalcitrant patient just as Sam's reserves petered out. He lay back onto the grass, his wrapped leg sticking out into the street, and stared blankly up at the sky. Exhausted by sorrow and physical pain, the hunter closed his eyes.

"Sam?" Buffy asked as she sat down next to him and wrapped her arms around her knees. "I need your help."

"With what?"

"We still need to stop Angel."

Sam gave a deep, quivering sigh. "You don't need me. You've got your friends and Bobby and your Watcher. I'm… I'm useless."

"That's not true."

"Yeah?" Sam pushed himself up and scowled at her. "Tell me one thing I can do that they can't. Bobby can shoot a gun. Giles can do research. Your friends can support you."

In a small voice, the Slayer said piteously, "You could be my brother."

The siblings both fought against another wave of grief. They hugged each other desperately, drawing strength from one another in order to wall away their despair until it was safe to let it go.

Abruptly, Bobby came hurrying back, his form backlit by the flames that were still being fought. "Guys, we got a problem."

Buffy and Sam separated and looked up at the elder hunter. "Another one?" Buffy said in a poor attempt at levity. "Is something wrong with one of my friends?"

"They're all right. Little banged up, but mostly nothin' a couple of bandages won't fix." Bobby adjusted his cap, his confusion evident. "It's your Watcher, girl. Rupert's missing."

* * *

Cordelia had snapped her leg after being pushed off the roof by a vampire (who was shortly thereafter dusted by Bobby) and hers was the most serious injury. Xander accompanied her in the ambulance to the hospital and contacted her parents. Willow called Oz (whose van had finally been resuscitated) who said that he'd be home in the next hour or so. Transportation was solved and injuries were managed. The problem now was to find Giles.

Buffy did a stealthy sweep around the area while her friends made casual inquiries to the emergency personnel. None of them had seen the man, nor did Buffy find signs of trouble. The lack of discovery brought a semblance of relief, but Giles' absence was becoming more and more worrisome.

Oz pulled up to the smoldering home just as they were gathering back together. He hopped out of his van and gave Willow a relieved hug. Pointedly, the laconic teenager made no mention of Dean's absence, though he glanced sideways at the man's tear-streaked siblings.

"Let's be thorough before we panic," Buffy said. "Oz, can you take Bobby and Willow to the school? See if he's at the library. Sam, we'll go to his house. You have the Impala's keys?"

Sam's breath caught, but he recovered quickly. He cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah. I've got a copy."

"Good. Let's go."

Sam looked up at the blackened wreckage and then at Bobby. "What about…?"

"Son," the grizzled hunter said quietly.

Buffy grit her teeth and smacked her brother on the arm. "Hey! Focus!"

Sam gave his significantly shorter sister a lofty glower and limped his way towards the Impala. He jerked open the driver's side door and honked the horn. "Buttwipe," Buffy muttered as she went to join him.

Oz finally broached the subject he'd been avoiding. "Something happened to Dean, didn't it?"

Willow blinked back tears as Bobby nodded slowly. "We got other things to worry about now," the hunter replied. "We'll get to Dean… later. I actually need to be dealing with the police here, give 'em some misdirecting information before they find the… the bodies inside. You two'll be good headin' off by yourselves?"

"Yes, sir," Oz said calmly. After the man had gone a fair distance away, the boy turned towards his girlfriend and lifted his eyebrows.

Willow drew in a shaky sigh. "I'll tell you on the way."

* * *

Giles' place was, surprisingly, _not_ empty.

The door was ajar, in itself already a signal of trouble, but over her brother's objections Buffy rushed inside crying her Watcher's name.

A short figure descended the staircase. "I don't think he's here," he said with a distinct Brooklyn accent.

Sam drew his handgun and pointed it up at the stranger. "Who are you?" he demanded.

"Whoa whoa whoa!" Hands up, the intruder came into the scant light provided by the nearby street lamp. Both siblings stared, appalled, at the stranger's absurdly outdated clothing and his overall unprepossessing demeanor. "The name's Whistler," he said as he arrived on the landing.

"What are you doing here?" Buffy growled.

"Waiting for you."

"Why?"

Whistler shrugged and affected embarrassment. "'Cause I needed a date for the prom."

Beyond angry and frustrated with the night's events, Buffy surged forward and snatched the man's lapels. She shoved him up against the wall and declared, "I have had a _really_ bad day, okay? If you have information worth hearing, then I am grateful for it. If you're going to crack jokes, then I'm going to pull out your ribcage and wear it as a hat."

"Hello to the imagery!" an alarmed Whistler exclaimed. "Nice."

"Buffy," Sam chastised. His sister released the man.

Whistler straightened his clothes then moved straight for the crystal decanter of whiskey Giles kept on his desk. "I didn't know it was going to go down like this. I figured this for Angel's big day. But I thought he was here to _stop_ Acathla, not activate its big bad mojo. Then you two made with the smoochies, and he's a creep again. Now, what are you gonna do?" He poured himself a shot and lifted the glass. "What are you prepared to do?"

"Whatever I have to," Buffy said grimly.

Whistler downed the drink. "Maybe I should ask: what are you prepared to give up?"

"Are you kidding me?" The Slayer smacked the glass out of Whistler's hand. "I might have just lost my Watcher. I just lost my _brother_. Are you telling me I've got even more to lose? What are you, some immortal thingamajig sent down here to be a pain?"

"No, not really. Immortal, yes. I'm here to help."

"Help? Are you going to pick up a sword and help me fight?" When silence answered, Buffy proclaimed, "I thought so. Maybe you should be getting off your immortal ass once in a while and do more than make with the cryptic talk."

"Sorry. I… I got my orders, you know?"

Sam finally lowered his gun. "Are you going to help or not?"

Whistler sighed. "The ritual's keyed specifically to Angel. Those monks didn't think it'd be possible for someone like him to come along. Someone twice cursed, twice blessed, with the will to actually make it happen."

Buffy looked at Sam for a translation. "Twice cursed," her brother pondered. "You mean he's been turned into a killer twice." Whistler nodded. "Twice blessed. I suppose the first time was at some kind of baptism. The second…" The hunter thought for a moment. "We keep calling it a curse, but I suppose getting your soul cleansed is sort of a blessing. Like a purification."

"Bingo!" Whistler said and pointed two triumphant index fingers.

"So we get Angel away," Buffy surmised, "and Acathla stays closed."

"Yup."

"And if it opens?"

"Then we're all screwed."

"Great." With that, Buffy stomped out of Giles' home, her brother on her heels.

Sam limped gamely after his sister. "Slow down, Buffy," he urged. "We don't even know where Angel is."

"Then we better start looking," she snapped.

"I know where he is."

Sam immediately fired in the direction of the new voice, bark flying away as the bullet imbedded into a Japanese maple in front of Giles' home. The platinum blonde figure that peeked out from one side had a faint scar ripping up one cheek from where Dean had shot him in the face, but was otherwise noticeably, astonishingly, uninjured. It was a far cry from the pile of ashes they'd all assumed he'd turned into after being buried at St. Avellino's.

Spike smirked at Buffy. "Hello, cutie."

* * *

Whistler listened to the beginnings of the altercation and shook his head. He walked over to the carpet where his glass had landed and poured himself another drink.

He really, really, _really_ wanted to say more, wanted to tell Buffy and Sam all that was said to be coming. They were children when all was said and done, undeserving of the nightmares that lay ahead. But the penalty of disobedience was harsh, and he had no intention of going through with that. The ones that had been reconditioned, some of them multiple times, were just never the same. And no one, not a single one, had ever broken themselves free.

Therefore Whistler would wait. And drink. And try not to think how being an obedient soldier was going to ruin a little girl's life.

* * *

Buffy yanked the vampire out into the open and threw him into her brother. Sam greeted him with a fist to the gut. Spike treated the hunter to a punch in the nose just as Buffy kicked him in the back. The vampire whirled around and got smacked in the face.

"Hey!" Spike shouted, throwing his hands up. He backed up away from the two siblings. "Bloody hell, white flag! I quit!"

"Let me clear this up for you," Buffy snarled. "We're mortal enemies? We don't get a 'time out'."

Spike's smirk returned. "You want to go a round, pet, I'll have a gay old time of it. You want to stop Angel we're gonna have to play this a bit differently."

"What are you talking about?" asked Sam.

"I'm talking about her ex. I'm talking about putting him in the bloody ground."

Sam snickered in disbelief. "Are you kidding me?"

Spike pulled a cigarette from his coat pocket and lit up. He leaned against the tree and said, "He's got her Watcher. Right now, he's probably torturing him."

"How do we know you're telling the truth?"

The vampire pulled out an iPhone and pressed the home button. Most of the screen was taken up by a selfie of Spike and Drusilla. However, off in the distance between them, as if coincidentally, was a chair-bound Giles. Angelus was leaning over him, one hand fisted into the Watcher's hair, the sadistic grin on the vampire's face a stark contrast to the furious defiance set on his victim.

"Longer we wait," Spike said as he pocketed his phone, "longer Angel has to play with the bloke."

Buffy was unconvinced. "What do you want exactly?"

"I told you. I want to save the world." The vampire then expounded on his attachment to the living, claiming that monsters who said they were going to destroy the world were just making with the "tough guy talk" and referred to people as "Happy Meals on legs."

Buffy listened with half an ear. Spike's claims were somewhat interesting, but the more intriguing development was the slow change her brother's face made from furious to confused. "Okay, fine," Sam said when Spike had finished. "But that's not the whole story."

The siblings looked expectantly at the vampire. Cursing under his breath, Spike tossed down the remnants of his cigarette and ground it under his boot. "I want Dru back. I want it like it was before he came back. The way she acts around him…"

"You're pathetic," Buffy spat.

Spike punched her. Buffy punched him back. Sam put the barrel of his gun in Spike's face.

Buffy continued berating the vampire. "Our brother is _dead_ —"

"I wasn't told about that," Spike inserted.

"—And who knows who's next? The whole Earth may be sucked into Hell, and you want my help 'cause your girlfriend's a big ho?"

"She led those Hellhounds right to Dean," Sam added angrily, his voice rising. "If she hadn't—"

"Way I hear, mate, your dear big brother was slated for Hell no matter what." Spike turned his attention to the Slayer. "You don't know where Angelus is. I do. Either you agree or you spend the few hours left of your sodding lives on Earth searching the city block by block."

"Fine," Buffy acquiesced.

"But—" Sam objected.

"We don't have time," Buffy told her brother. "For all we know Giles could be dying."

Sam glowered at the smug vampire. "One sign you're messing with us and I'll dust you myself."

"Fair enough, mate."

"Let's head back towards your house," the hunter told his sister. "If anything we can jump inside and Bowie here can't follow."

"Leave the car," Buffy said. "If mom thinks that… that Dean's out then…" The girl closed her eyes for a moment and drew in a shuddering breath. "Can you walk all right?"

"I'll be fine."

Buffy looked from her brother to Spike. "Let's go."

* * *

Sam wasn't quite as fine as he claimed; they'd had to stop a few times so he could rest his leg. Each time Spike gazed about nervously, his hackles up. When Buffy demanded to know why, he refused to answer.

They walked up to Buffy's home just as her mother was pulling into the driveway. Joyce bounded out of her SUV and immediately cried, "Thank goodness you're all right! None of you came here after the firemen left and I got _so_ worried." She checked herself when she noticed Spike. "Who is this man?"

Amused, the vampire asked, "What, your mum doesn't know?"

"Spike," Sam warned.

"Know what?" Joyce demanded.

Buffy was momentarily stymied. "That I'm in a band," she blurted out. "A-A-A rock band with Spike here."

"Right," Spike said in an attempt to facilitate the lie. "She plays the triangle—"

"Drums," Sam inserted.

"Drums, yeah. She's hell on the ol' skins you know."

There was no doubt Buffy's mother was unconvinced. She set her eyes on Sam. "Did you know about this?" Then, before he could answer, swiveled over to Spike. "And what do _you_ do?"

"Well, I sing," he stated immediately.

Joyce frowned at her daughter. "Buffy, do you really expect me to believe—"

She cut off with a shriek as a vampire, face distorted, leapt for Spike. He stepped neatly out of the way, directly into the path of a woman with black eyes. She punched him hard enough to send him flying into Joyce's car. Glass shattered at the impact.

As Spike stumbled back to his feet, Sam smacked the other vampire in the eyes several times with his fist. Buffy drew a stake from her jacket and, after her brother had flipped the creature around, plunged it into the thing's heart. It crumbled to dust onto the driveway.

The demon looked warily at the three opponents now standing against her: a hunter, a vampire (as Spike was recovered and prepared to join the fray), and the Slayer. Buffy remembered the extra weight in her pocket and withdrew Ruby's knife.

"You wouldn't dare," the demon hissed.

"Try me," Buffy snarled.

After a moment's hesitation, the demon wrenched its host's mouth open and billowed out. The woman then collapsed onto the Summers' lawn. Spike walked over and placed two fingers on her neck. "Alive." He looked at Buffy. "Angel's bully-boys."

"Spying on you," she inferred.

"Demon's still out there," Sam cautioned.

Buffy, frustrated, started to head towards her front door… and belatedly remembered that her mother had stood there and witnessed the entire skirmish. Swallowing apprehensively, the Slayer turned towards her thunderstruck parent. "Buffy," said the woman, "what in the world is going on?"

Deeply apprehensive, Buffy approached her mother. She glanced at Sam for reassurance. He nodded encouragingly. Then, the thing she'd been wanting to tell her mother ever since that fateful day in Los Angeles dropped from her lips.

"Mom… I'm a Vampire Slayer."

* * *

 **Acknowledgement** : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episode "Becoming, Part II" (BtVS 2.22).


	35. Book II: Chapter 35

(5/19/2017) Did anyone else watch the season 12 finale and say: "What the fuck." And for anyone who hasn't seen it, it totally ends with cupcakes and rainbows. Promise.

And now: the big finale! I decided to make it super long rather than two short chapters because I wanted to. Shut up.

Thank you **RHatch89** , **JAKEkenstein** , **philly cheese dude** , **thedarkpokemaster** , and **Sage of Wind Dragons** for the reviews! And all you favoriters and followers get manicures!

* * *

Spike reluctantly provided the address to the mansion that Angel and his crew had been squatting at for the past several months; up in the hills where the homes were either spread far from each other or were isolated by long driveways. The layout provided the perfect alcove for a nefarious crew of monsters to conduct their business.

As Buffy called her friends and told them the latest developments, an awkward, tense silence pervaded her living room. Sam, his injured leg resting up on the coffee table, sat alongside Joyce on the couch while Spike nestled uncomfortably in an armchair. Anger, alarm, and confusion warred for prominence on Joyce's face as she poured herself a glass of wine and got to drinking. Pointedly, she offered neither Spike nor Sam any.

After a few minutes, Joyce put down her glass and shook her head at Spike. "Have we met?"

"You hit me with an ax once," he replied, a statement that earned him a suspicious glance from Buffy's brother.

"Sam," Joyce said, her voice becoming stern, "where's Dean?"

"Dean?" Sam quietly laughed to himself. "Dean's gone."

"Gone? What do you mean gone?"

Before Sam could answer, Buffy walked back in. Impatient with the familial drama, Spike jumped to his feet. "Talk," demanded Buffy. "What's the deal?"

"Simple. You let me and Dru skip town, I help you kill Angel."

"Angel?" Joyce queried, baffled. "Your boyfriend?"

"I'll take her out of the country; you'll never hear from us again, I _bloody_ well hope."

Sam did his best to lurch to his feet. He limped over and loomed over the vampire, arms crossed. "And how do we know you're not going to go back on your word?"

"Trust this, then," scoffed Spike. "I hate Angelus far more than I hate either of you."

"Sam," Buffy sighed. "We don't have a choice."

"Fine," her brother conceded. "You fuck us over, I'll kill you. Slowly."

Spike spared each of the siblings a glower before heading for the door. Buffy called his name and he paused. "If Giles dies," she warned, "you _all_ die." The vampire grimaced and left.

"Have you tried _not_ being the Slayer?" Joyce wondered.

"Mom!" Buffy exclaimed.

"She didn't have a choice," Sam explained quietly.

"So this was just an accident," Joyce said, relieved. "Well, then all we have to do is find some way to reverse it!"

"I don't think it works that way."

Buffy sighed, exasperated. "I'm the Slayer, mom. Accept it."

"Buffy…" Sam cautioned.

"We should call the police." Buffy's mother pulled out her phone. "If someone's been kidnapped…"

"No!" Buffy grabbed the device and tossed it onto the couch. "You get them involved, you'll get them killed. Cops can't fight these things. _I_ can."

"And what about you?" Joyce demanded as she turned to Sam. "Are you a Slayer?"

"Uh, no, ma'am," he stammered. "I'm just a hunter."

"A hunter. And how do you become a hunter?"

Sam lowered his eyes. "Dad taught us."

"'Dad'? _John?_ Are you telling me _John_ knew all about these things the whole time?" Her pseudo-stepson slowly nodded. Joyce then turned back towards her daughter. "When were you going to tell me? Or would you _ever_ have told me?"

"Probably not," Buffy said brusquely. "It's not like you would have ever noticed."

Furious, Joyce plunked her wineglass onto the mantelpiece. "Don't you talk to me that way, young lady! First you say that you've been hiding this thing all along and now I find out your _father_ and _brothers_ hunt monsters too?"

"Mom…"

"All these years! Decades! 'Traveling mechanics' my ass."

"Mom, please…"

"Joyce—" Sam desperately added.

"I'm used to _you_ keeping secrets," Joyce cut through scathingly. "I mean God knows how many years you were living with us and didn't even say why. I shouldn't be surprised about Dean. No wonder he used to get into so many fights! Where is he? Tell me _right now_ or I swear—"

Her daughter interrupted the mounting tirade, harshly. "Dean's _dead_."

At Buffy's stark proclamation, Joyce blanched and sat heavily down on the recliner. "Dead? How? When?"

"Does it matter?" Buffy's temper rose. "It was bloody and _horrible_ and that's the way me and Sam are likely to go because fate decided to shit on our lives!"

The teenager's outcry was met with silence as her mother digested the night's revelations. After a minute, Joyce finally said, "Well, this all stops now."

"No, it doesn't stop!" Buffy shouted. "It _never_ stops! I didn't ask for this, but I can't make it go away. Don't you realize how awful it's been? How lonely? How _dangerous?_ Don't you realize how I would _love_ to be upstairs watching TV or gossiping about boys or… God, even studying! But I have to save the world… _again_." She turned towards her brother. "Let's go, Sam."

Sam headed for the front door, but before Buffy could join him her mother stood in front of her. "No, this is insane. You are going to sit down and explain this so it makes sense!"

"I don't have time," Buffy said flatly. "I need you to get out of my way."

"I am your _mother_ and you will make time!"

Buffy surged forward, hoping to merely brush her mother aside, and found her upper arms grasped. She utilized a move she knew well and dove her arms in before swinging them out. The strength behind the movement was normally keyed towards the supernaturally enhanced; as a human woman, the force knocked Joyce backwards and nearly over onto the couch.

When Buffy reached the door, sidling past her flabbergasted brother, her mother declared, angrily, "You walk out of this house don't even _think_ about coming back."

Buffy gave her mother one last, regretful look before heading for the Impala. In an attempt to placate Joyce, Sam tried to apologize. "Hey, look—"

"Sam," Joyce snapped, her fury unabated. "I'm sorry about Dean. But you need to leave. _Now._ "

Her refusal to hear Sam out cut him deeper than he thought it would. After all, it was Joyce, not Mary Winchester, who had been the figure of motherhood for Sam's childhood. It was possible that her reaction stemmed from the quick consumption of alcohol, but it was certain that much of it was the poor way Buffy had handled her mother's discovery of her secret.

There was nothing Sam could do other than aggravate Joyce further. He walked quietly out of the door, closed it as normally as possible, and joined his sister in the Impala. "Are you ready?" he asked.

"Yes." Ready to leave. Ready to accept her mother's rejection. Ready to kill the love of her life.

Grief could wait.

Sam nodded and turned the key. The familiar roar of the car's engine hurt both of Dean's siblings, but it still wasn't time to mourn.

They had to save the world. Again.

* * *

Spike slunk back into the mansion the same way he got out; climbing a tree in the expansive courtyard. Drusilla was the only one who ventured so far out on the grounds, but she'd barely left Acathla's side since it had taken residence. He dropped softly down onto the stones and sat down in his wheelchair.

That's when the vampire noticed the demon staring straight at him.

For a long moment the two merely looked at one another. Spike prepared to fight; after all, one of the demons had smoked out back at Buffy's home. The vampire's jig could already be up and all of the negotiating he'd done with the Slayer and her overgrown brother might have now been a big, fat waste of time.

A muffled howl from the Watcher floated through the garden. The demon smirked, his meatsuit's eyes shifting to black, and tapped lightly on the side of its nose. It then headed back towards the house.

Bemused, Spike slowly wheeled after him. There was no telling what this meant. The vampire only hoped that whatever clemency he'd been given wasn't temporary. Wary, he rolled into the back door to find Lilith and Angelus squaring off while the Watcher, bruised and bleeding, slouched on a chair between them.

Lilith was clutching one of Drusilla's dolls. She repeatedly jabbed Angel in the belly with its curly head while she pouted. "You're not allowed to kill the ugly old man because I said so!"

Apoplectic with suppressed rage, Angelus folded his arms and growled back, "He's not going to give us what we want! Better to dismember the fucker and leave his torso sitting on the Slayer's front porch. Then this night won't have been a _complete_ waste of time."

Lilith stomped a foot and waved a hand. Giles and the chair he was bound to slid swiftly into an adjoining room. "No! He has a secret and he's going to tell!"

"Now, now," Spike placated, "don't let's lose our temper."

Both Angel and Lilith snapped their heads towards him. The former snarled at his one-time prodigy, "Keep out of it, sit 'n' spin!"

"Little bit there is right. You cut him up you'll never get your answers."

"When did _you_ become so level-headed?"

"Right about the time you became so pig-headed." The tow-headed vampire wheeled himself towards the Watcher. "You have your way with him, you'll never get to destroy the world. And I don't fancy spending the next month trying to get librarian out of the carpet. There are other ways."

Lilith bounced on her toes. "Is it going to be oodles and oodles of fun?"

"More than you can handle, love. Drusilla, sweetheart?" Spike called into the hallway. His dark goddess swayed out from the darkness and put a hand on his shoulder. They smiled at one another as he asked, "Would you like to play a game?"

* * *

Giles had held on for hours. They'd cut him, burned him, struck him, broken bones; and all they'd gotten from him were screams and contempt. Even when the demons had started in he'd given them nothing.

But the macabre giggles coming from the vampire running her fingers through his hair made his resolve finally begin to crack.

There were stories of the powers within Drusilla's purview. Tales of her precognitive abilities and various levels of telepathy were scattered throughout the Watcher's diaries. One gibberish entry from the turn of the century even gave a firsthand account of what it was like to have been influenced by her madness.

Suddenly the vampire gasped, gleeful at her discovery. She knelt in front of the Watcher, her large, brown eyes drawing him in. "Look at me," she instructed softly. He turned away as best he could.

With wiggling fingers Drusilla drew him back. She gave him a horrible smile. "Be in me," she said before covering his eyes. "Look with your heart."

When she took her hand away, _Jenny Calendar_ was before him.

A moment of doubt struck Giles. Everything about this was wrong, wrong, wrong. The instrument of Jenny's demise was standing not twenty feet away, but logic was clouded by the pure euphoria he felt at seeing her again. "I thought I lost you!" he whispered hoarsely, tears pricking his eyes.

"Shh," she whispered, so near that his nose was filled by the jasmine perfume she used to wear. "I'll never leave you."

Panicked, Giles tried to stand. "We have to get out of here. The demons, the vampires—"

"No no no no no." Jenny brushed a gentle hand down his cheek. "Slowly."

He tried desperately to shake the illusion. "It can't be you."

"Did you tell Angel about the ritual?"

His strength was sapped; infinite minutes under torture had whittled his defenses to nearly nothing. "We have to get him away from Acathla," the Watcher gasped.

"Why? Is he close to figuring it out?"

"No, it's Angel… he… he's…."

"It's all right," Jenny said, softly and seductively, her lips distractingly close. "We'll be together… finally. We'll have everything we never got to have. Never got to feel…" Her voice dropped to a hushed murmur. "Just tell me what to do."

"The monks… they never thought someone like him…"

"Angel himself? He's the key?"

"His blood… it mustn't touch…"

"Shh." Jenny leaned in and kissed him. Passion upset any lingering uncertainty as Giles finally gave in to desire.

* * *

"My blood?" Angel wondered, baffled. "What for?"

"Who knows, who cares," Spike offered nonchalantly.

"Are we going to play with Acathla now?" Lilith asked eagerly.

"Oh, yes," a fervent Angel answered. The three monsters then stared, nonplussed, at the still lip-locked vampire and Watcher.

"Uh, Drusilla," Spike called. "We _are_ finished here, ducks."

The madwoman drew away. She turned and looked over, sheepish. "Sorry." Her grin widened maliciously. "I was in the moment."

* * *

The illusion fell away. Blood and roses pervaded the air.

The horror of what he had done dawned upon him.

And with tears spilling quietly down his cheeks, Giles finally let pain and despair overwhelm him.

* * *

"What're you doin', girl?" Bobby asked Willow. After having soothed the authorities and ensured none of them thought that they'd had anything to do with the conflagration, the elder hunter had joined her and her boyfriend in the library.

The teenaged girl had various ingredients spread across the center table. "I'm trying again."

"Trying what?" Oz wondered quietly.

"The spell."

"You sure about that?"

"Yes," Willow stated definitely. "I just need another Orb of Thesulah."

"I got one out in my truck," Bobby offered. "Been using it as a paperweight."

The redhead nodded and, with Oz's help, began once again preparing the curse to cleanse Angel's soul.

* * *

"Whistler?" Buffy called as she charged into her Watcher's apartment. A clank from the kitchen answered her. When she looked over, she found the immortal whatever-it-was pulling a bottle from the refrigerator.

"You know, raiding an Englishman's fridge is like dating a nun," he said as he popped the cap and rounded the counter. "You're never gonna get the good stuff."

As Sam hobbled through the doorway, the Slayer marched over to Whistler and poked him in the chest. "You have to know more. You have to know how to stop it."

"I can't."

"You 'can't'?" Sam asked disbelievingly. "That means you know and you're just not saying."

Whistler appeared to wrestle with some inner dilemma, his face contorting between swigs of beer. Impatient with his vacillating, Buffy snatched the bottle and threw it against the wall. "Jeez!" Whistler cursed as the glass shattered.

"I'm done with playing nice," Buffy snarled. "Remember earlier when I talked about my new headgear? I'm about to make it a reality."

"Okay, okay!" Whistler cried, his hands thrown up defensively. "Look, if Angel's blood touches Acathla it's game over. Portal opens and we're all screwed. But the monks wrote in a safety clause."

"Which is?"

"He's also the lock. If he goes through it, then it'll close again."

"Fine. I'm down to the last few things to lose as it is." The Slayer whirled on her heel and stomped out.

As Sam began to follow, Whistler called out, "Hey, big guy." The hunter turned, eyebrows lifted.

"She's gonna need you," the thing said quietly. "Don't do anything stupid, now or in the future. It ain't worth it."

Sam, confused, gave Whistler a questioning look before closing Giles' door.

* * *

Whistler smiled slightly as the Impala's engine roared away. He then hunched his shoulders as a loud, high pitched whine filled the air. Words were couched in the sound in a language no human could comprehend. He understood them readily enough.

Whistler gave a deep, resigned sigh. "Yeah, I know. I told. Get it over with."

White brilliance briefly filled the room. When it was gone, the celestial being that had for centuries called itself Whistler, that had first been known as Sariel, was gone.

* * *

Half an hour later, Sam brought the Impala to a slow stop at the base of the long, hilled driveway at the bottom of Angel's mansion. He looked up at the sun cresting over the horizon. "If we're lucky, they'll be waiting until tonight to do anything."

Buffy gave her brother a withering look. "Have we _ever_ been lucky?"

"Uh, nope."

"Let's go."

Sam popped the trunk and armed himself with a few bottles of holy water and a shotgun full of salt rounds. Buffy withdrew Ruby's knife from her jacket and grabbed a machete. A stake, as always, was already tucked into an inside pocket.

* * *

"We ready?" asked Willow from her corner of their triad on the floor. The spell's ingredients and the Orb of Thesulah were in the middle.

"Stinky herbs are a go," Oz replied. "Did I mention I never took Latin?"

"Don't need to understand it," said Bobby. "Just need to say it right."

"If you say so."

* * *

The vampires and demons were gathered together in the living room to witness the opening of Acathla. Lilith bounced up and down on her toes while holding the hand of her precious Aunt Drusilla. Spike, for all appearances bored, sat as close as possible to the grotesque carving without being an interference.

Angelus approached Acathla, a nondescript knife in one hand. His breath quickened in anticipation as he placed the blade in his palm…

…And stopped when a shotgun blast erupted behind him. A demon, back shredded, slid across the floor.

His eyes snapped away from the yelling hellspawn to the source of the noise. The blonde bitch and her remaining brother stood triumphantly in the open backyard doorway. "Hello, lover," she uttered.

Irritated, Angelus snapped, "I don't have time for _you_."

"You don't have a lot of time left."

The vampire smirked. "Coming on kind of strong, don't you think? You're playing some deep odds here. Do you really think _just_ you two can take us all on?"

"No, I don't."

Something hard struck Angelus in the back of the head. Through the stars he could make out, barely, a familiar, traitorous, bleach blonde head preparing to whack him again with the rusty andiron in his hand.

* * *

Buffy dusted vamps left and right while Sam took care of the demons. What worried the hunter was Lilith; the little girl was standing calmly on one side, her face bright with interest, just observing the proceedings as if it was a particularly lively cartoon. The minute that she decided to enter the fray Sam knew that the odds would shift considerably in the monsters' favor.

Spike, meanwhile, lay blow after blow on Angelus. His grandsire had retreated to a fetal position with his hands protectively over his head. "Painful isn't it?" Spike asked triumphantly right before Drusilla tackled him from the side.

The lovers squared off. "I don't want to hurt you, baby," Spike warned.

His lover responded by grabbing his throat and shoving him against the wall. Their strength was evenly matched, psychic powers aside, which could have made the ensuing struggle a challenge. Drusilla, however, severely underestimated how much her lover had healed. Spike, sneering, broke from her grip and punched her unconscious. "Doesn't mean I won't," he said down to her.

* * *

Willow began the chant and cast the bones in her hand towards the brazier. " _Quod perditum est, invenietur…_ "

Wary, both Oz and Bobby kept their eyes on the girl. So far so good. Nothing untoward was occurring, but nothing magical had shown itself either. The two men glanced at one another, doubt writ large on their expressions.

* * *

Angel shook his bruised head and stumbled to his feet. He snatched up his blade and turned towards Acathla, intent on completing the ritual, only to find Lilith standing right in front of the statue.

"Move," snarled the vampire.

"No," she replied cheerfully.

"Excuse me?"

"Silly goose," giggled the demon. "I haven't gotten everything ready!"

"For what?"

"The Apocalypse."

"What are you—" Comprehension dawned. Enraged, Angel advanced on Lilith, fists clenched. "You've been playing me this entire time!"

The girl's face darkened. "As soon as I heard _you_ had found Acathla, I knew you'd be a big meanie and mess up all my plans. That's why I let the Slayer and your stupid Spike interrupt you. And now," she hissed, her eyes rolling far, far back to show only a pearlescent white, "you all _die_."

* * *

Finally, the last of the vampires were dust and the demons down or fled, leaving only Angelus and Lilith to defeat (Spike having scooped up Drusilla and vanished). Except, to Buffy and Sam's astonishment, they were apparently about to kill _each other_.

The sight of her one-time love about to be destroyed by the demon had Buffy's heart wrenched in two. In the end, she let instinct drive her. One moment the two monsters were prepared to rip each other apart, the next saw the Slayer throwing herself at Angelus and driving the two of them outdoors.

Pouting, Lilith looked around, her eyes back to normal. When she caught sight of Sam, her face lit up. "Oh, goodie! I can at least get rid of you."

The demon's hand shot out. A painful white light filled the air. Sam shouted reflexively in shock and threw his arms up protectively, certain that he was about to be obliterated.

Except he wasn't.

The light faded and a flabbergasted Lilith dropped the porcelain doll in her hands. Sam recovered quickly and took a step in her direction. "Back!" she shrieked. He continued on.

Seeing her advantage lost, Lilith took the easiest escape route. The little girl's mouth opened and black smoke poured out. It swirled for a moment on the ceiling before escaping through the chimney. Lilith's vessel collapsed onto the floor.

The little girl was merely unconscious, much to Sam's relief. He lifted her in his arms just as two disheveled adults inched their way out from the hallway. With a cry, the woman rushed forward to take the girl from the hunter's arms.

Sam spared a glance for the violent hand to hand bout between Buffy and Angel before telling the family, "Get out. Hurry." They spared a second to express their gratitude before pelting to the front door.

The hunter began to move to help his sister and stopped. In an adjoining room sat Giles, beaten and ignored, tied hand and foot to a dining room chair. Sam hurriedly limped over to free him.

"Sam?" the Watcher groaned.

"Yeah, Giles, it's me. Hold on a sec."

As Sam sawed through his bonds, Giles despondently moaned, "You're not real."

"Come again?"

"It's a trick. They get into my mind, make me see things I want."

The last of the ropes fell away. Sam hauled the older man to his feet and asked, confused, "Then why would they make you see me?"

Giles blinked. "You're right. Let's go."

* * *

Oz worriedly watched Willow falter, her voice stuttering over the lines. "Hey, maybe we should stop," he urged as she swayed. Her chin dropped down to her chest.

"This might be too much," Bobby added. "Don't want you gettin' hurt." He put a hand on the girl's bicep and shook the limb gently.

Suddenly, Willow's head snapped up and then jerked back into place, her eyes wild and her face now framed in shadow from her straight red locks. " _Te implor, Doamne_ ," she uttered harshly, " _nu ignora aceasta rugaminte…_ "

"Is this a good thing?" Oz asked Bobby. The elder hunter opened his mouth, wordless, and shrugged.

"Hell if I know."

* * *

They'd been exchanging blows for who knew how long; minutes, hours, days. Buffy was approaching the limit of her strength, sapped down to her reserves by the horrors and losses of the past two days. Her big brother was gone. Her mother had rejected her. The love of her life wanted to destroy the world.

With a great, desperate heave, the Slayer grabbed her opponent's lapels and threw him through the glass doors. They shattered around him, shards flying every which way. Buffy noticed too late what would be wrought by her move.

Angelus grabbed a large shard of glass and sliced his palm. As Buffy rushed inside to stop him, he gleefully headed to Acathla and slammed his bloodied hand onto the statue's face.

The floor shook and rumbled. From the center of the figure a small, swirling black and red vortex appeared. It swiftly grew in size.

Angelus turned to the Slayer and his smirk cut her to the bone. She should have let Lilith kill him. She should have killed him after they'd defeated he Judge. She should have killed him the first time she discovered he wasn't human.

Now it was time to rectify those mistakes.

* * *

The floor quivered underneath them. Oz and Bobby looked about worriedly. "Uh," the boy started to say.

"Son," Bobby said, "maybe you should leave."

"I'm not leaving her. Or you."

The elder hunter nodded approvingly before the two resumed their watch over the magically possessed Willow.

* * *

A stake was in her hand and Angel was finally on the defensive. She kicked him hard in the face and again grabbed him, ready to toss him into Acathla's rapidly growing maw.

* * *

" _Acum_!" Willow shouted as the Orb of Thesulah began to glow brightly. " _Acum_!"

The mystical sphere vanished. Willow glanced blearily from Oz to Bobby before falling over in a faint.

* * *

A bright gleam shone behind Angelus' eyes, there and gone again before Buffy could blink. All of a sudden he stopped struggling, his body limp in her hands. As the vampire tried to stand on his own, his eyes incongruently filled with tears. "Buffy?" he whispered.

She let him go, her eyes wide. Immediately Angel wrapped his arms around her, kissing her on the shoulder, on the neck, on her cheek between sobs. "I feel like I haven't seen you in months! Everything's so muddled…"

"Angel…?" she wondered softly. No. It couldn't be.

He leaned back only to gasp in shock. "You're hurt," he said, gently touching a bruise on her face that his own fist had inflicted not five minutes before.

Buffy closed her eyes and sighed deeply. After everything, after losing so much, here was something that had come back. She would never let him go, no matter what. As long as they had each other, it would all be okay. They clutched one another desperately, tearfully…

Except the Slayer could see quite clearly the swirling portal of death that had been opened to swallow the world.

The illusion of serenity, of gain, broke into a million fragments. Buffy leaned back from the love of her life to look him in the eyes one last time. "What's happening?" Angel asked, the pull from Acathla tugging at his coat.

She put her finger gently on his lips. "Shh. Don't worry about it."

They kissed.

"I love you," she murmured.

"I love you," he answered.

"Close your eyes."

Angel complied.

And she shoved him into the vortex.

Before he vanished, she could see quite clearly the shock, the confusion, the heartbreak on his face. Then Acathla's opening disappeared and took with it her heart.

* * *

Her friends and Watcher would get one final text message of farewell and a warning not to come looking for her. Her mother would find a note, her phone, and an emptied room.

Sam took Dean's seat in the Impala. Buffy took Sam's.

Then, certain they would never be back, the two siblings drove away from Sunnydale.

* * *

 **Acknowledgement** : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episode "Becoming, Part II" (BtVS 2.22).

 **Author's note** : Sariel is the name of an angelic watcher. I just picked it because, you know, Whistler being all observer like and the name hasn't (yet) been used in Supernatural. And I totally proved **philly cheese dude's** theory.


	36. Book III: Chapter 36

(5/26/2017) I hit over 100 followers! Yay! First time ever! I now give myself a big prize. And for a special People Reading This Prize, the next chapter will be up in the next day or so (rather than a week). Hooray!

Medical chart credit goes to **Authoressinhiding** who is the most awesome person ever.

Thank you **missmeow1968** , **philly cheese dude** , **IoSolUno** , **RHatch89** , **thedarkpokemaster** , **thatwritersdream** , **demon19027** , **jkmp28** , and **Authoressinhiding** (who pointed out to me that I gave Dean a hella nasty disease in chapter 13) for the reviews! And all you favoriters and followers get hugs!

* * *

( _Note left on Buffy Summers' bed_ )

Mom,

I'm leaving. You told me not to come back so I won't. Don't look for me. I won't stay to be a problem for you anymore.

Buffy

* * *

 _June 2007_

* * *

( _Phone call from Ellen Harvelle to Joyce Summers_ )

JOYCE: Buffy?

ELLEN: No, I'm sorry. My name's Ellen. I gather you know my daughter, Jo.

JOYCE: Oh. Yes, yes of course.

ELLEN: I just wanted to let you know that I've seen your girl and she's doing all right.

JOYCE: Buffy? You've seen Buffy? Where? When? Is she coming home?

ELLEN: Joyce, I'm sorry, but no. But don't be thinkin' it's all bad: she's with Sam.

JOYCE: Sam!

ELLEN: Uh-huh. Look, the two of them told me what happened with her boyfriend and his brother. Most of it anyhow. They got some things to be workin' out, the two of them. When they're ready, they'll be around.

JOYCE: Oh. Oh no. She didn't even tell _me_. ( _2 seconds of silence_ ) Ellen, will you tell me what happened?

ELLEN: Yeah, Buffy was saying she finally told you about, well, everything. I don't know if you wanna hear this.

JOYCE: Just… please.

ELLEN: ( _sigh_ ) Well, from what she says she had to basically send the love of her life to Hell in order to save the world.

JOYCE: And…. And Dean?

ELLEN: I can't, Joyce—

JOYCE: Please.

ELLEN: I _can't_. I'm sorry, Joyce. Boy's daddy was like family and this is something I know they don't want gettin' out. If'n'when Sam or Buffy is ready to tell then you'll know. I only told you about Buffy 'cause you're her mom and, well, if Jo had gone through something like that I'd wanna know.

JOYCE: I appreciate it. I really do. Listen, will you call me when you see her? Just tell me she's okay. Tell her… Tell her she can come home.

ELLEN: I'll do that. Listen, you call me when you need to, all right? If anyone's gonna understand what you're going through it's another mom with a daughter that's in this life.

JOYCE: Thank you, Ellen.

ELLEN: You take care now.

JOYCE: And you.

* * *

DATE: June 5, 2007 0830PST  
TO: swin0112358  
FROM: rgiles  
SUBJECT: Please Answer

Sam, I know Buffy is with you. I've tried calling but you won't answer. At least tell me whether or not she's safe.

DATE: June 22, 2007 0922PST  
TO: swin0112358  
FROM: rgiles  
SUBJECT: Please Answer

It's been over two weeks and I still haven't heard a thing. Robert Singer told me the ritual of restoration completed. Is she with Angel? At least tell me whether or not she survived.

DATE: July 14, 2007 0230PST  
TO: swin0112358  
FROM: rgiles  
SUBJECT: Please Answer

I've waited as long as I can. If I hear nothing from you in the next 48 hours I will contact the Watcher's Council and utilize every resource at their disposal to find the both of you.

DATE: July 15, 2007 0830CST  
TO: rgiles  
FROM: swin0112358  
SUBJECT: re: Please answer

She's fine. We're fine.

DATE: July 15, 2007 0648PST  
TO: swin0112358  
FROM: rgiles  
SUBJECT: re: re: Please Answer

You know bloody well that isn't a sufficient answer! Where are you both? What have you been doing? Why won't you answer any of our calls? All of us here have been frantic with worry. At least tell Buffy to call her mother and let her know she's all right.

DATE: July 15, 2007 0933CST  
TO: rgiles  
FROM: swin0112358  
SUBJECT: re: re: re: Please answer

Joyce made it pretty damn clear the last night we were in town that she doesn't want to speak with either of us. Just pass along the message, okay? I'm watching over Buffy. There's nothing for you guys to worry about.

DATE: July 15, 2007 0750PST  
TO: swin0112358  
FROM: rgiles  
SUBJECT: re: re: re: re: Please Answer

Very well, if that's all you're going to give me then know this: I will hold you personally responsible should something happen to your sister.

DATE: July 15, 2007 0933CST  
TO: rgiles  
FROM: swin0112358  
SUBJECT: re: re: re: re: re: Please answer

Okay.

* * *

( _Notes from Dr. Redding at County General Hospital, Chicago, IL_ )

Significant Event: August 18, 2007

Hospital Length of Stay Day #65

As per yesterday's note, Jane Doe was scheduled for brain death examination this afternoon at 1400. This writer and Dr. David McCarthy, neurologist, entered the patient's room at 1358 and began the examination. Pupillary reflexes were absent, as were oculocephalic, oculovestibular, corneal, pharyngeal, and tracheal reflexes. This is in keeping with our previous neurologic examinations. An apnea test was then conducted, which the patient also failed. Following this, the team met briefly in the charting room to discuss options. At that point, the patient was declared brain dead, and we decided to proceed with terminal extubation. This writer was present and removed the ET tube at 1450.

The patient ceased expiring, and all cardiac activity stopped. However, less than a minute afterwards, the patient opened her eyes, sat up, and began taking deep, gasping inhalations. The patient demanded, "Who do I have to kill to get some french fries around here?" before disconnecting herself from her two peripheral IVs and leaving the hospital, despite multiple staff attempts to detain her. Hospital security and the Chicago police were called, but by the time they arrived, the patient had eloped from the NeuroICU and from the hospital entirely.

Upon review of the literature, I have found only one other case report of a somewhat similar occurence. A 19 yr old female in California spontaneously awoke after being in a coma for eight months and likewise absconded from the hospital. Unfortunately, given the elopement of our patient, it is impossible to determine what caused this unexpected occurrence. As has been documented in previous notes by this writer as well as other providers, Jane Doe has had a neurological exam consistent with brain death for the entire length of her hospital stay, including her exams both yesterday and today. Without the patient present, there is now no way to further investigate her sudden, unanticipated recovery.

Signed, Phillip J. Redding, MD, PGY–3 August 19, 2007

* * *

 _September 2007_

* * *

( _Second headline report of the 10pm newscast from station WCVB_ )

ANCHOR: Locals were shocked when the body of Dr. Gertrude Greenwater was discovered Tuesday evening. Her employers at Boston University called the authorities after the London native failed to show up for classes. Her students have gathered together for a candlelight vigil in honor of the beloved professor.

FEMALE STUDENT: ( _tearfully_ ) I can't believe this happened to her. Everyone loved her. What kind of monster does that to a person?

ANCHOR: Police have yet to release details regarding Dr. Greenwater's death but reports have described the scene as "horrific." A young woman that neighbors referred to as the professor's adopted daughter is also missing. Anyone with information regarding Dr. Greenwater's murder or the location of Faith Lehane please call the Boston Police Department at the number on your screen.

* * *

( _Phone call from Dean Winchester to Joyce Summers_ )

JOYCE: Hello?

DEAN: Joyce, it's Dean. ( _2 seconds of silence_ ) Uh, hello?

JOYCE: Is this some kind of joke?

DEAN: ( _incomprehensible muttering_ ) No, it ain't a joke. It's me. I'm looking for Buffy. Or Sam if you know where he's at.

JOYCE: How do I know this isn't some monster or-or-or demon or whatever?

DEAN: Buffy finally told you, huh?

JOYCE: Yes, she did—wait! Let's get back to the fact that they told me you died!

DEAN: Uh, yeah. I kinda did. But I'm back.

JOYCE: Oh, this is just… Dean, I haven't heard from Buffy in months.

DEAN: Say what?

JOYCE: She told me about all this Slayer nonsense, left me a note, and took off. She even left her phone!

DEAN: What the… Okay. I'm sorry, Joyce.

JOYCE: Sorry? You _should_ be sorry after all these years of hiding this from me! If John were still alive I'd kill him!

DEAN: Uh…

JOYCE: And another thing: how long did you know about this Slayer business? Have you known this whole time? Did you all conspire together not to tell me?

DEAN: Well…

JOYCE: I don't know where she is, I don't know where anyone is, I have no idea what's going on or who she's with or if she's even _alive!_

DEAN: I'm sorry, Joyce.

JOYCE: Sorry? You should be _more_ than sorry! Don't you _ever_ call here again! ( _dial tone_ )

DEAN: ( _to no one_ ) What the fuck?


	37. Book III: Chapter 37

(5/26/2017) And here it is, dun dun duuuuun! I wrote both chapters at the same time, thus the quickness. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

Thank you **jkmp28** , **RHatch89** , **thedarkpokemaster** , and **Sage of Wind Dragons** for the (super quick) reviews! And all you favoriters and followers get cherries!

* * *

They were in the midst of yet another stay at yet another random motel when a thing wearing Dean's face rapped on the door.

Buffy laid it flat with her fist.

Regardless of Bobby's shouts and the creature's moans, the Slayer stomped ruthlessly on its stomach. The next move would have been to crush its genitals (providing it had any), but Sam pulled her back, knife in hand. As the monster stood up, the hunter brandished the weapon and demanded, "Who are you?"

" _What_ are you?" Buffy clarified.

The thing rubbed its stomach. "Like one of you two didn't do this?" it yelled.

"Do what?" Sam shouted.

Bobby placed himself between the creature with Dean's face and its supposed siblings, hands outstretched pleadingly. "It's him!" he cried. "I've been through this already. It's really him."

The blade in Sam's hand clattered to the floor. "What?"

"I know," Dean said, his familiar smirk lighting up the room. "I look fantastic, huh?"

The siblings stared at one another, stupefied. With a quivering smile, Dean took a step forward to embrace them both… and found himself suddenly drenched in holy water. _Again_. He looked over to his sister, an empty bottle in her hand, as he wiped moisture from his face. "Not a demon _or_ a vamp."

"Oh my God!" Buffy cried as she hurled herself into his arms. Sam swiftly joined them and the three soon became a squeezing mass of tears and sobs. Bobby stood unobtrusively to one side, a small smile on his face and tears in his eyes.

From between the two significantly taller men, a muffled Buffy called out, "Breathing! Becoming a issue?"

The siblings reluctantly parted. "How?" Sam queried, baffled. "When?"

"One of you tell me," Dean replied as he folded his arms. "What did it cost?" he asked, suddenly forbidding.

"Cost?" Buffy repeated. "For what?"

"You think one of made a _deal_?" Sam asked incredulously.

"That's exactly what we think," Bobby uttered gruffly.

"I didn't," Sam said.

"Nope," added Buffy.

"Don't lie to me," Dean snarled.

"We're not!" snapped his sister.

Dean jabbed a finger first at Buffy and then at Sam. "There's no other way this could have gone down! Now tell the truth!"

"It wasn't us!" Sam cried.

"Bullshit!"

"We _tried_ to get you out!" Buffy shouted back. "For months and months and months! We asked witches and-and-and psychics and we even tried to reopen that stupid gate. We even looked into opening the _Hellmouth_ but there was nothing." Her eyes watered again. "Nothing."

"We _both_ tried to bargain," Sam said quietly, furiously. "No one would deal. We failed and I'm sorry, all right? Dean, I'm sorry."

"Me too," Buffy added.

"It's okay, you guys," Dean said, mollified. "You don't have to apologize, I believe you."

"Don't get me wrong," Bobby said. "I'm gladdened that Sam'n Buffy's souls remain intact, but it does raise a sticky question."

The eldest brother grimaced. "If you guys didn't pull me out, what did?"

* * *

They spent a few more minutes reverifying that their suppositions were incorrect; Dean continued to insist he was just Dean while Sam and Buffy denied their involvement with his resurrection. Bobby mentioned a psychic that was only a few hours' drive away and they decided to head there in the morning.

Dean told his siblings he remembered nothing of Hell, much to their relief. They told him that they'd spent the intervening months being normal hunters. Nothing out of the ordinary. It was obvious, at least to Bobby (the only outside observer), that not a single one of them was telling the truth. The elder man felt, however, that it wasn't his place to question their decision to be taciturn with one another.

While his sister chattered excitedly to both Sam and Bobby, Dean excused himself to the bathroom with a quip about how toilets must have been disgusting in Hell. He relieved himself, washed his hands, and stared at his reflection.

 _…Screams. Everyone was screaming._ He _was screaming. His flesh was being torn off strip by strip with infinite patience and nightmarish skill. Hands dove into his stomach and played with his intestines. He died again…_

 _…and again…_

 _…and again…_

 _…Pain unrelenting, days upon days upon days…_

 _…Someone was trying to tell him to hold on, to fight, but it was just so hard…_

Dean splashed water on his face to hide the tears. Of course he lied to them. What did they expect? There was no reason for either of his younger siblings to know what he'd been through. All that would do would bring up more misery and horror than they could ever comprehend.

"Dean?"

Buffy knocked insistently on the door. Bemused, the eldest brother opened it and lifted a querying eyebrow. "What?"

His sister thumbed towards the door. "Bobby and Sam said they didn't want to finish waiting for you to poop and went to get pizza. You need anything?"

"Nah. Just another beer."

"Plenty left."

The pair sat down on the couch companionably. There was comfort in the normalcy of the gesture; a small joy that it was even possible to be there with a bottle in hand while in the company of family.

Dean permitted himself a small, contented belch and put his feet up on the weathered coffee table. After a few minutes, Buffy sighed. "There's something you need to know," she said quietly.

Her tone put Dean immediately on alert. "What?"

"Don't tell him I told you, okay? Promise?"

"Sure."

"Something's up with Sam. He keeps sneaking out. I don't know why and I don't know where."

"What, you never asked him about it? Or followed him?" Dean's sister curled into the couch and shrugged.

He wiped a hand down his face. Buffy had always been closer to Sam, with the spread in ages giving Dean plenty of allowance to be a big, bossy brother. In contrast, the two younger siblings played together, giggled with each other, were real, innocent children with one another. The fact that Sam was keeping secrets and Buffy wasn't doing her best to suss them out was highly suspicious. "Okay, what's going on with you two?"

"Nothing."

"Yeah, sure," Dean said, unconvinced. He changed tack. "Mind telling me why you're on the road and not, you know, at home?"

Buffy shrugged again. Finally frustrated with her obstinance, Dean plunked down his beer bottle and stood up. "What is going on with you? Your mom freaking flipped the fuck out when I called! What the hell did I miss?"

Indignant, Buffy shot to her feet. "You called my house? Why?"

"Looking for you!"

Dean was taken aback when his sister's lip began trembling. "It's none of your business," she finally told him.

"Okay," Dean said, doing his best to moderate his tone. "Then what happened with that a-capella thing?"

"Acathla. Angel opened it. We closed it. End of story."

"Can't be."

"Why not?"

Dean's answer was forestalled by the return of Sam and Bobby. Buffy and her elder brother put on their best faces to greet their family back into the room and tried their hardest not to let the past few minute's hostility be noticed. It seemed to work; Bobby cracked open a beer and sat noisily into the couch and Sam grandly presented Buffy a small cheese pizza and dug into an all-meat special.

For the time being it was enough that Dean could pretend everything was fine. He was back with his brother, his sister, and the man that had been more of a father to him than his actual father. Being with family would sustain him for now.

* * *

 _October 2007_

* * *

The meeting with Pamela Barnes, the psychic, went disastrously.

The attractive thirty-something woman introduced herself by flirting salaciously with Dean and inviting Sam along for the ride (to which his older brother made clear, "You are _not_ invited!"). She then laughed at Buffy pretending to vomit at the mental picture, then got right down to business.

During the seance they had gotten a name: Castiel. It told them to back off, which Pamela ignored. In retribution, it proceeded to burn her eyes out from her head.

Bobby went with the psychic to the emergency room while the siblings went to get a bite to eat. Or at least to try; after witnessing Pamela's gruesome injuries none of them were up to choking anything down. Dean ordered pie just to have something to poke with his fork.

Moments later the waitress, the cook, and the four patrons all revealed black eyes.

After a standoff (during which Dean claimed he'd been let out due to his "perky nipples" and slapped their leader silly) they rushed out to the car and breathed a collective sigh of relief. The mostly pointless incident at least gave them some further information; this Castiel thing wasn't a demon. Whatever it was, however, was big and powerful enough that it had the hellspawn completely terrified.

They checked into the Astoria Motel for the night. Exhausted by the ordeal of the past few days, Dean collapsed into one of the beds almost immediately. He was awakened a few hours later by a sleep-tousled Buffy. "Dean. Dean!" she hissed.

Her brother garbled out a response. Impatient, Buffy woke him up completely by flicking his ear and shouting his name again. Dean roared in pain and sat up flailing. "WHAT?" he demanded loudly as he palmed his reddened earlobe.

"Sam's gone."

"What?" he repeated, this time more in confusion than anger.

"Sam's gone! The Impala woke me up."

Shocked stupid by the rude awakening, Dean only managed to process part of what his sister had said. "He took my car?"

Buffy folded her arms and snapped, " _That's_ what you're worried about? Jeez!"

The room's ancient analog television suddenly flicked on and interrupted Dean's rejoinder. Puzzlingly, the screen displayed nothing but static. Shortly thereafter the radio followed suit, the dial clicking over all on its own. A fuzzy country tune played for a few seconds before transforming into a shrill, swiftly rising, whine.

Eventually it became disturbing enough to cause both siblings to clap their hands over their ears. Both of them jumped when the dresser mirror shattered. Dean then covered Buffy protectively when the bathroom mirror, the closet mirror, and the windows all followed suit.

When the door burst open Dean snatched around for a weapon of any sort, certain that this was the source of the attack. Instead, the noise cut abruptly. Through the ringing in their ears Buffy and her brother faintly heard Bobby crying their names.

While they helped each other to their feet, the elder hunter rushed around the room collecting their belongings and stuffing them haphazardly into whatever duffle bag was closest. He then hurried outside, threw the luggage into the back of his truck, and came back to help them into the cab.

After starting the motor Bobby handed them purloined motel towels to staunch the blood from their ears. Dean patted a few scratches on his arms from stray glass. "You two kids all right?" Bobby asked worriedly.

"Peachy," Dean managed.

"Did anyone else hear someone talking?" Buffy wondered absentmindedly as she tossed her bloodied rag into the back of the cab.

"Through all that?" her brother asked incredulously.

"Saying what exactly?" Bobby added.

"I dunno," Buffy said with a shrug. "Word thingies."

Dean and Bobby exchanged quick, baffled glances. "Nope," the elder man finally said. "Just noise."

Dean cut across Buffy's continued speculation by pulling out his phone and calling Sam. After a brief, duplicitous conversation the eldest brother hung up and announced that they were going to summon the Castiel.

"Are you mental?" Buffy asked.

"Maybe," Dean replied. "But I'm sick of all this runaround. It's time to face it head-on."

"Yeah, but what if this Castiel-thing is a monster? Like a forty-foot giant with a serious bug up his butt?"

"A wha…?" Dean shook his head. "Then we pull a Skywalker and topple its ass."

"This is a bad idea," Bobby grumbled.

"We don't got a choice."

"We could choose life."

"I'm with the life-choosey decision," agreed Buffy.

"Tough," Dean stated firmly. "No more getting caught with our pants down."

"Shouldn't we tell Sam?" Bobby asked.

Dean frowned and shook his head. "Nah, he's better off where he is. Wherever that is."

"Sure," Buffy said gamely. "He can come scrape our pancaked corpses off the floor after we're done."

* * *

They discovered an small, abandoned barn several miles down the road. It had been neglected for a substantial amount of time (cobwebs and dust lay thick on every surface), but its walls and foundations were well built and the cheap hanging bulbs were still connected to the power grid.

Dean and Buffy hauled out as many different weapons as they could from Bobby's trunk. Knives of all materials, guns, stakes, holy water, and salt bags were arranged on the folding tables that they had discovered behind some moldy hay bales. Bobby then gave each of them a wall, a diagram, and several cans of spray paint. When they were done, sigils decorated nearly every conceivable surface, including an enormous devil's trap that took up nearly half the floor.

"I'm so artsy," Buffy declared as she tossed down an empty can.

Her brother rolled his eyes. "We ready?" he asked Bobby.

The elder hunter lit a math and held it over a bowl of ingredients. "Yup. This should summon near about anything, long as the name's right."

After a brief look at one another, Buffy and Dean headed for the weapons table and made their choices. Dean grabbed the Kurdish knife (which he was frankly shocked to see; he'd assumed it had been charbroiled along with his body) and a shotgun with salt rounds. Buffy grabbed a machete.

"Go," uttered the Slayer.

The match was tossed in.

* * *

An hour later it was past eleven and Buffy was bored, bored, bored. The battery on her phone had died and no amount of pleading or whining would get her brother to lend her his.

"You sure you did the ritual right?" Dean groused. Bobby, rightfully, gave him a dirty look.

Buffy, who was lying on her back, head dangling backwards, on the cleanest wooden box she could find, complained, "Can we go now?"

"Will you cut being a big baby?" her brother asked, annoyed.

Buffy pouted upside down at him. " _You're_ the baby, you big, fat… baby thing!"

Dean's furtherance of their petulant exchange was blocked by what felt like a minor earthquake. The glassless windows rattled as the floors and walls quivered ominously. Buffy flipped to her feet and snatched up her blade as Bobby hustled to the table and prepped a shotgun.

"Wishful thinking," Dean called over the noise, "but maybe it's just the wind."

With a loud report the door slammed open. Astonished and frightened, the Slayer and the two hunters watched a dark haired, blue eyed man in a trench coat and black suit stride calmly through the entryway.

The devil's trap on the floor could have been a child's chalk doodle for all the attention he paid it. None of the other sigils seem to warrant his attention either. The hanging lights popped, sparks raining down, as he walked purposely forward, his eyes set on Dean.

Both hunters discharged their weapons several times. The only notable damage was to the creature's clothing.

"Who are you?" Dean snarled as it came within arms length.

In a calm, measured tone, his voice deep and gravelly, the stranger replied, "I am the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition."

"Yeah. Thanks for that." With as much force as he could muster, Dean plunged Ruby's blade into the monster's heart. He examined the weapon sticking out of his chest as if it were an especially fascinating bug.

Then he pulled it out and dropped it on the floor.

Buffy swung her machete and Bobby an iron crowbar at the man's head. The thing twisted around with preternatural speed and caught both weapons on their descent. He tossed them casually aside.

Bobby backed away as it approached, his hand scrabbling blindly at the table for another weapon. The creature placed two fingers on the hunter's forehead and he dropped like a stone.

Buffy took a fighting stance that he regarded with amusement, distracting him long enough for Dean to rush to Bobby's side. He checked Bobby's pulse and found it remarkably steady. The hunter slowly realized that the older man was merely in a deep slumber.

Buffy and the monster were still squaring off. Without glancing over, it said, "Your friend's alive."

"Who are you?" Buffy demanded.

"Castiel."

"Well, duh. But _what_ are you?"

"I am an angel of the Lord."

There was a moment of silence as the Slayer and her brother processed the information. Then, with all the attitude and delight she could muster, Buffy grinned and declared, "Shut _up_."

The colloquialism seemed to baffle the so-called angel. He cocked his head sideways and peered down at the enchanted girl. Rather than convey fascination, however, Dean was quick to show his contempt. "There's no such thing."

"This is your problem, Dean," Castiel chastised. "You have no faith."

Both Dean and Buffy flinched as lightning suddenly crashed repeatedly overhead. The unnatural brightness illuminated Castiel…

…And the great shadow of wings on the wall behind him.

The siblings stared, wide-eyed, until the feathered appendages began to fold and the irregular flashes ceased. To cover his astonishment, Dean angrily spat, "Some angel you are. You burned out that poor woman's eyes."

Castiel sighed. "I warned her not to spy on my true form. It can be… overwhelming to humans, and so can my real voice. But you already knew that."

"You mean the gas station and the motel. That was your _voice_?"

"Hah!" Buffy cried. She smacked her brother on the arm. "I _told_ you I heard words."

The angel walked towards Buffy and backed her up against the weapons table. She hit it with her back, causing all the items to rattle and a knife to clatter to the floor, as Castiel stopped just inside of her personal space. "The Slayer," he said pensively. "I have wondered what it would be like to be in your presence."

"Yeah, well, right now you're getting so far up in my presence I can see your nose hairs."

"Get away from her," Dean growled as he stepped between them and shoved the angel away. He hovered protectively in front of his sister as he asked, "So do all angels appear in the form of holy tax accountants?"

"This?" Castiel picked at the jacket's lapels. "This is a vessel."

"You're _possessing_ some poor bastard?"

"Dean!" Buffy snapped. She yanked her brother around so they were face to face. "Stop annoying him before he goes all eyeball-burning on us!"

"This thing pulled me out of Hell!" Dean yelled back. "You're not seriously thinking that it was just to be nice?"

"Maybe!"

"No, it was not," Castiel inserted. "God commanded it. We have work for you."

"See?" shouted a vindicated Dean.

"Will you stop with the loud voices?" Buffy shrieked back.

"Look who's talking! And _you_ ," he snarled as he turned towards the angel. "Oh, what the fuck?" Dean searched wildly around the sparsely furnished room. Somehow, without making a whisper of a noise, Castiel was gone.

Hay and dirt shuffled on the floor as Bobby regained consciousness. He moaned and sat up. "What the hell happened?" he wondered.

Dean and Buffy glanced at one another. "We should get going," Dean finally said. "We'll tell you on the way."

* * *

 **Acknowledgement** : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episode, "Lazarus Rising" (SPN 4.01).

 **Author's Note** : Cass didn't have too much of a personality in the beginning other than "don't fuck with me" (at least in my opinion), but I figured Buffy might confuse the crap out of him early on ;)

P.S. Don't worry. I didn't forget about Angel.


	38. Book III: Chapter 38

(6/1/2017) I write off of my phone which finally caught the so-called 6-Plus "touch disease," and now my new phone is correcting all my "Buffys" into "Buddy".

Realized I made Dean's stint in Hell kinda short. Changed the dates in the past two chapters.

Thank you **philly cheese dude** , **jkmp28** , **Sage of Wind Dragons** , **IoSolUno** , **thedarkpokemaster** , and **Authoressinhiding** for the reviews! And all you favoriters and followers get millions of peaches!

* * *

Dean called Sam shortly after the so-called angel's departure and told him to meet them back at Bobby's house. He gave his brother a terse warning to _not ever_ take the Impala again without asking or Dean would make sure Sam would never, ever be able to produce any mini-Sams, now or in the future.

From the first mile Buffy and Dean began arguing over whether or not the Castiel thing was telling the truth and couldn't come to any sort of concession, much to Bobby's chagrin. Dean was dead set on refuting the proof; that those wings could have been anything, an illusion maybe. Buffy argued that Dean _himself_ had gone to Hell, that their _father_ had gone to Hell, that there were _demons_ roaming the Earth, so why not angels?

They circled around and around until, an hour in, Bobby finally told them both to shut their cake holes or he'd make them walk. The pair fumed silently for the remainder of the trip.

Sam said he was still a half hour or so out when they arrived at the salvage yard. His siblings took the opportunity to claim the better sleeping areas (Buffy on the couch and Dean on the expanse of floor right beside it) rather than wait for him.

In the morning, the debate continued.

"Look," Dean said, frustrated, "all I know is I was _not_ groped by an angel!"

Buffy threw her hands up and let them drop. "Then what was he, huh? Is he some kind of big bird man thing? Caw! Caw! I flew Dean Winchester out of Hell because he has such great big pouty lips!"

"Again, how do you even know those were real? Did you touch them? Did you even see anything other than a stupid shadow? And my lips are not pouty!"

"Okay," Sam inserted, "then what was it exactly?"

"I dunno!" Dean cried. "Maybe it was some kind of demon. Demons lie!"

"Because demons are totally interested in not keeping you in Hell," retorted Buffy.

"Maybe I was giving them too much shit down there, you think of _that_?"

Sam started ticking points off of his fingers. "You said he was immune to salt rounds, devil's traps, hell, Ruby's knife! What else could he be?"

"Don't you think that if angels were real, that some hunter somewhere would have seen one at some point… ever?"

"Yeah. _You_ just did, Dean."

The room went blessedly silent for a few moments (much to Bobby's relief). "Giles!" Dean said suddenly. "Let's call the Watcher."

"No," Buffy said.

"Why not?"

"Because I haven't talked to him in months."

" _Excuse_ me?" Dean's volume rose. "Are you telling me that not only does your _mom_ not know where you are, but your fucking _Watcher_ has no clue you're out here?"

"Yeah, so?" his sister threw back.

Fueled by his frustration over the angel argument as well as the stress of suppressing his memories of Hell, Dean stepped up to the considerably smaller teenaged girl and let loose a loud, obscenity laden tirade. "Oh this is fan-fucking-tastic! Fucking _unbelievable_ , Buffy! Does a single fucking person back in Sunnydale know where you are? What the _fuck_ were you thinking? Were you thinking at _all?_ The fuck happened after I died? WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?"

Rising on her tiptoes, Buffy screamed right back, "Well, fuckity fuck fuck fuck! FUCK YOU, DEAN!" She immediately spun on her heel and fled into the salvage yard, slamming the rickety screen door as hard as she could.

Sam opened his mouth a few times, bereft of commentary, before pressing his lips together angrily and chasing after his sister. Dean considered throwing a few more invectives their way and decided to kick a kitchen cabinet door instead.

From his desk in the other room, Bobby remarked, "Well. That was interesting. Idjit," he tacked on after Dean glowered at him.

* * *

"Buffy, wait!" Sam called. Buffy had only several seconds worth of lead on him but she'd gone a good distance already. Luckily for him she skidded to a halt between the carcass of a sedan and a stack of smashed vehicles of indeterminate origin.

"What?" Buffy snapped as she turned towards her younger brother.

"Are you okay?"

The diminutive blonde let loose a sardonic laugh. " _Now_ you're concerned about me?"

The siblings stared at one another, the past several months laying thick between them. "Look," Sam finally said, "I'm sorry."

"Oh, you're _sorry_. Sam Winchester is _sorry_. Well good on you!" Buffy snarled. "I'm so _happy_ for you."

"What do you want me to say?" her brother shouted back.

"Say? You wanna say something?" Buffy's voice lowered to a harsh whisper. "How about telling me what the hell you've been doing with that 'girlfriend' of yours?"

They were at a sufficient distance and barricaded by enough derelict vehicles that their words wouldn't carry to the house. Nevertheless, Sam spoke quietly. "I told you. She wants to learn how to hunt, so that's what I've been doing. Training her."

Buffy folded her arms and scowled at her brother. "She's not human."

Startled, Sam stuttered, "Wh-What makes you say that?"

His sister pointed at herself. "Slayer. Or were you so wrapped up in whatever it is that you forgot? Your so-called girlfriend makes my skin crawl, so she's either a vampire or a demon."

Sam swallowed. He _had_ forgotten, as unlikely as that was. He'd been so distracted… "You can't tell Dean."

"Why not?"

"He wouldn't understand."

" _I_ don't understand! You haven't told me anything! So tell me now or I swear to God—"

"What?" Sam snapped, his voice rising. "You'll beat it out of me? Smack me around again just to make yourself feel better?"

"That's not why I did it and it was only once!" Buffy shouted. "And you know perfectly well why it happened!"

"You two knuckleheads done?"

Bobby's query silenced the quarreling pair. In the ensuing quiet, the elder hunter said, "I finally got Dean convinced that we got angels around now. Or mostly convinced. Or at least he's shut up about it. Anyhoo, he wants _you_ to go and get him some pie." Bobby handed Sam the keys to his truck.

"Why am I not driving the Impala?"

"'Cause apparently you went and took it without askin' and now you're grounded." Sam rolled his eyes and walked off.

Concerned by the glimmer of unshed tears in Buffy's eyes, Bobby placed a hand on her shoulder and asked, "You okay?"

"Can I go live in some parallel universe where I'm an only child and those two jackasses don't exist?"

"If only, kid. C'mon, best we head on back."

* * *

Sam took his time running his errand. When he finally made it back he discovered that Bobby had gotten himself worked up into a worried frenzy over a friend of his, Olivia Lowry. Sam handed the bag to his brother who was appalled that his brother had forgotten the pie. The uncharacteristic mistake had Buffy narrowing her eyes suspiciously. It turned out to be the first of many, many woes.

Buffy insisted that the sight of Olivia's mangled chest was nothing new on her end and volunteered to go with Bobby to check on some other hunters. Her brothers went off in another direction to do the same. Neither pair found anything reassuring; every hunter they visited was dead.

After they'd checked on the final one it was near morning and, as they were only an hour out from the salvage yard, Bobby and Buffy headed back to the house. Sam and Dean said it would take them an additional hour or so to join them.

"Now what?" Buffy groused as they walked inside.

"I got some books to be lookin' into," Bobby told her. "How about you get some coffee going?"

"Sounds like a plan."

Bobby went to the living room as Buffy hustled about the kitchen. She had the coffee percolating in no time. While she watched the liquid drop into the pot, her phone rang. It was Sam. "Yeah?"

"Everything okay?"

"So far. Chest still holding hearts in on our end. You guys?"

There was a second's hesitation before Sam admitted, "I think it's starting to happen to us. I just saw Agent Henriksen."

"That FBI guy?"

"Yeah. It's ghosts. Like, seriously pissed off ghosts. Can you let Bobby know?"

"Yup." Buffy hung up the call and headed for the living room. "Hey, Bobby—"

As the hunter looked up, eyebrows lifted, he shivered and breathed a patch of fogged air. Bobby shot out from his seat and grabbed the iron poker from the fireplace while Buffy hustled back into the kitchen for the salt.

"Hello, Buffy."

The Slayer spun on her heel, fists up. Her eyes widened in disbelief.

Jenny Calendar was standing before her.

* * *

Subsequent phone calls to both Bobby and their sister went unanswered. Dean put his foot down on the Impala's gas pedal and drove maniacally back to the house.

They slid to a pebble flying, dirt grinding halt near the front door. Sam ran towards the salvage to search while Dean headed inside. The latter felt lucky to find his sister, alive, sitting head down in the kitchen within a circle of salt. Her knees were drawn up and her arms, littered with cuts and scrapes, were folded on top. One hand clutched a cast iron skillet.

Dean knelt down in front of her. "Buffy?"

With a scream, Buffy swung her kitchen implement turned weapon with two hands, barely missing her brother's head. He fell back onto his rear and held his palms out. "Whoa whoa whoa, Rapunzel!" he shouted. "It's me!"

"Dean?" she wondered in a small voice.

"Yeah, Dean. Your 'recently returned from the dead and not wanting to go back anytime soon' big brother."

With a cry, Buffy threw herself into Dean's arms. She wept piteously while he stroked her back. "Easy, easy," Dean said. "It's okay."

"I saw Miss Calendar," she sobbed. "She said it was my fault she died! It is, _it is_ , if I had just killed Angel _sooner_ …"

"Wait, what?" Dean gently extracted himself out of his sister's arms. "You killed him?"

Buffy sniffed and wiped away her tears. "I might as well have. I… I had to send him into Acathla. He-He-He opened it, but then something happened." She reached out and wrapped her hands around her brother's arms. As she spoke her grip tightened, and with her Slayer's strength her hold swiftly became painful. "He was _Angel!_ Not Angelus! He knew me! His soul was _clean_ and I still pushed him in. He went to Hell all because of me, because I couldn't do what was right, because I just had to be a stupid, _stupid_ girl…"

As Buffy berated herself Dean sorrowfully realized that this was probably the first time she had spoken about what had happened with Angel. Again he wondered why Sam hadn't gotten this story from her before, but now was not the time to treat his little brother to a beatdown about failing to care for their sister.

By the time her litany had ended and she let Dean go bruises had blossomed on his upper arms. Drained by the emotional outburst, Buffy sat back on her heels and sighed. "Sorry," she finally said.

"It's okay, Buff'," Dean replied, confused as to why the old nickname made her flinch. "You gonna be all right?"

Buffy didn't answer. Instead, her eyes slid past him as she lifted a hand to point. Dean swiveled on his knees and beheld a spirit: a blonde woman with shoulder length hair that seemed naggingly familiar.

"Meg," Buffy identified.

"Bingo. It's okay," the ghost said with a wry smile. "I'm not a demon. This is what I looked like before that demon cut off my hair and dressed me like a slut."

"You're the girl the demon possessed," Dean clarified.

"Meg Masters," she greeted pleasantly, "Nice to finally talk to you when I'm not, you know, choking on my own blood. It's okay. Seriously, I'm just a college girl. Sorry. _Was._ I was walking home one night—"

The spirit's essence dissipated as Buffy's skillet flew through it and imbedded into the wall. Dean turned astonished eyes towards his sister.

Buffy shrugged. "She was all: blah blah blah blah blah. I got bored."

* * *

Out in the yard, Sam discovered Bobby under attack from the spirits of a pair of twin girls. After extricating him from the mess, Sam rushed the both of them inside. Bobby then led all of them downstairs to what turned out to be a magnificent underground addition to the house.

After Bobby unbarred the heavy door, the siblings walked in and gaped about. The room was circular, with high walls and ceilings, furnished with a bed, a desk, and a few random chairs. On the floor was an enormous devil's trap in gray paint. The shadow of the same mandala, wrought of glass and iron on the ceiling, lay at a crooked angle across its twin. Books of lore were generously stacked both on the desk and in a small bookshelf off in one corner. To Buffy's delight, a full arsenal was stocked on one side. To Dean's delight, a lascivious poster of Bo Derek decorated another.

"Solid iron," Bobby described. "Completely coated in salt. One hundred percent ghost-proof."

"You built a panic room?" Sam asked incredulously.

"I had a weekend off."

"Bobby," Dean remarked, "you're awesome."

Now safe, the group shared details about their attacks. Sam noted that he'd seen a mark on Henriksen's hand. Bobby confirmed he'd seen the same on the twins, Dean had seen one on Meg and Buffy on Miss Calendar. Sam then quickly sketched out the figure: a rough, bisected circle with curves and circles at each line's end. With that, Bobby got to researching.

They stayed in the room until evening. Sam helped Bobby for a while, but after getting frustrated at his lack of success he began aiding his brother in prepping salt rounds. The pair had a short, vigorous discussion regarding the existence and apathy of God that ended when Buffy threatened to clock their heads together if they didn't shut up. She spent her time cataloguing the weaponry, testing a few of the swords and daggers, then sat down on the bed with some scissors and spare scraps of paper. Eventually she had a paper doll sized evening gown.

"What's that for?" Dean asked.

In response, Buffy stood up and grabbed the tape dispenser from Bobby's desk. She then proceeded to give the half-naked Bo Derek a new outfit. "There!"

"Aw, c'mon!"

"Found it," Bobby finally announced.

"What?" Sam wondered.

"The symbol you saw. The brand on the ghosts?"

"Yeah?"

"Mark of the Witness."

Buffy approached the elder hunter and peered over his shoulder at the book he was reading. "That sounds apocalypticky."

"Sure does," Bobby agreed. "These people, none of them died what you'd call ordinary deaths. See, these ghosts, they were forced to rise. They woke up in agony. They were like rabid dogs. It ain't their fault. Someone rose them. _On purpose_."

"Who?" asked Sam.

"Do I look like I know? But whoever it was used a spell so powerful it left a mark, a brand on their souls. Whoever did this had big plans. It's called 'The Rising of the Witnesses.' It figures into an ancient prophecy."

"Let me guess," said Buffy. "An apocalypse."

"Nope," Bobby refuted. "Not 'an' apocalypse. _The_ Apocalypse."

The siblings were stunned into silence. "Apocalypse?" Dean finally asked. "The Apocalypse, Apocalypse? The four horsemen, pestilence, five-dollar-a-gallon-gas Apocalypse?"

"That's the one. The Rising of the Witnesses is a sort of mile-marker."

Sam sighed. "Okay," he said pragmatically. "So what do we do now?"

"Road trip," his brother suggested. "Grand Canyon, Star Trek Experience. Bunny Ranch."

"Disneyworld," added Buffy.

"Tijuana."

"Oh, oh. Mall of America."

"Amsterdam. Red Light District."

"Hawaii. God, I could use a good tan."

Exasperated, Bobby interrupted them with, "Will you two idjits shut up for a second? How about we survive our friends out there first?"

Dean threw up his hands and let them drop. "Any plans on staying in here 'til Judgement Day?"

Bobby had found a spell, one whose ingredients and required locale (an open fire) were unfortunately upstairs, far outside their safety room. Bobby and the brothers quickly loaded shotguns and pocketed extra rounds while their sister selected an iron sword.

Their first ghost was sitting on the stairs: Ronald Reznick, the ill-fated security guard that had been caught in the crossfire while Sam and Dean had been trying to thwart a shapeshifter in Milwaukee. Ronald berated the brothers over his death, freezing the two of them in their guilt, until being violently interrupted by Bobby and his gun.

"If you're gonna shoot, shoot," chastised the elder hunter. "Don't talk."

Once inside the living room, Bobby jerked open a desk drawer and produced a copper bowl. He slammed it down at the same time that Dean lit the fireplace. "Upstairs, linen closet," he instructed Sam. "Red hex box. It'll be heavy."

"Got it," the younger brother replied and hurried off.

Ragged twin girls appeared. "Bobby," one said ominously. Dean promptly shot one, Buffy swung her sword through the other.

"Kitchen," Bobby told Dean as Buffy began to shake out a salt circle around the elder hunter. "Cutlery drawer. It's got a false bottom. Hemlock, opium, wormwood."

"Opium?" Dean wondered disbelievingly.

"Go!"

"What do I do?" Buffy asked as she closed the barrier.

"Make sure I don't die," Bobby uttered before starting to scribe runes on the desktop with chalk.

The twins appeared again and Buffy swung her blade. A gunshot echoed down from upstairs followed by Sam's call that he was fine. When the kitchen door slammed shut, Dean shouted, "I'm all right! Just keep at it!"

"Keep at it," Jenny Calendar hissed at Buffy. "Is that how you encouraged your lover, the vampire?"

"Shut. UP!" the Slayer yelled as she swung her sword through her former teacher.

Another gunshot rang out, this time from the kitchen. Buffy's brothers came staggering in with Dean clutching his chest. "You okay?" his sister asked.

"No," he grumbled as he dumped his share of the spell ingredients onto the desk. Sam quickly followed suit.

Bobby sorted through the items, chose the ones he needed, and tossed them into his bowl. Unfortunately, as soon as he began chanting the windows blew open. An unnatural wind swept through the room and disturbed Buffy's carefully placed salt circle.

The ghosts eagerly took advantage of the now shieldless humans. Without regard for who they blamed for their demises, the spirits attacked. Buffy hacked through Ronald as Dean shot Miss Calendar. Sam blew the twins away as Meg shoved the rollup desk at him. Henriksen lunged at Buffy as the children perched in front of Sam and stared menacingly.

A new ghost appeared directly in front of Buffy; _Angel_ of all people. His face was twisted into its vampiric snarl and his clothing, like all the others, was a ragged version of those he normally wore: a shredded coat, torn shirt, and frayed pants, all in black. Buffy's eyes filled with tears and she hesitated, her sword raised above one shoulder in preparation.

But Angel's spirit wasn't interested in her. Instead, it grabbed an implement from the hearth and swung it through Meg. She dissipated moments before she could plunge her hand into Bobby's back.

The elder hunter tossed the bowl into the flames. For a moment the fire burned a bright blue before. Then it and all the ghosts vanished.

Except for Angel.

The four humans stared, stunned, at the vampire, whose face crunched and shifted back to normal. He blinked once at them. Twice. And collapsed into a heap. Buffy immediately rushed forward to check on him.

The three men glanced at one another. Then Dean voiced what they were all thinking.

"What the fuck?"

* * *

 **Acknowledgement** : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episode, "Are You There God? It's Me, Dean Winchester" (SPN 4.02).


	39. Book III: Chapter 39

(6/6/2017) This American Life talked about obesity being endemic in Sioux Falls which, honestly, tickled my Supernatural fangirl funnybone.

Also, apologies for not replying to reviews. It was one of those weeks.

Thank you **Authoressinhiding** (especially for the addition to chapter 36), **IoSolUno** , **RHatch89** , **philly cheese dude** , **missmeow1968** , **Sage of Wind Dragons** , **thatwritersdream** , **jkmp28** , and **thedarkpokemaster** for the reviews! And all you favoriters and followers get pineapple cake!

* * *

 _Undeterminable Day_

* * *

Hell.

He didn't belong here. Not because he'd been a saint, but because of what he was now physically: a _vampire_. A "live" vampire, one that hadn't been dusted at the end of a wooden stake.

Vampires went… somewhere else. That's all that they would tell him. But since he was here, they were going to make him suffer for the wrongs he'd committed on Earth.

He thought that he'd been a maliciously creative torturer, but the demons had had centuries more to perfect their methodology. Not only that, but this was _their_ realm, their place of power, and anything they could devise could be implemented. They could dredge up visions of each and every one of his victims so that they could exact their revenge. They could break all the bones in his body without lifting a finger. They could blind him and deafen him and leave him suspended with nothing but his guilt-ridden thoughts for days on end.

They could bring Buffy into being and do things to her. Things that made him scream. Then they would kill her. Slowly. Over and over and over.

At what he supposed was the last hour he was always thrown unceremoniously into a small, dark cell. He felt neither hunger nor thirst, but exhaustion was ever present. Most of the time he slumped over and let oblivion take him, and in the morning he would once again be whole. This time, however, he thought he recognized the moans drifting in through a minute crack in the stone wall.

He shuffled as close as he could to the opening and listened. Yes. That voice he knew. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes. What were the odds? Perhaps they could plan with each other to escape. Perhaps they could kindle hope within one another. At the very least, he could at least relish in the comfort of a familiar voice. The vampire pressed his lips as close as he could to the crack and prayed the man would be able to hear him.

"Dean," he whispered. "It's Angel."

* * *

 _October 2007_

* * *

After their initial shock, Sam and Dean lifted up opposite ends of the vampire that had, quite literally, appeared out of nowhere. The only reliably lightless room in Bobby's home was the basement area near his new panic room. With as much care as possible, the brothers hauled Angel down the stairs while Buffy appropriated a mattress from one of the upstairs bedrooms.

Once the vampire was lying down, Dean pushed his sister upstairs and told her, in no uncertain terms, not to look. Too astounded to object, Buffy waited impatiently at the top steps while the three men divested Angel of his rags, checked for wounds (of which there were blessedly none), and tucked him under a blanket. Dean then told his sister it was okay to join them.

"I do know what he looks like naked, you know," Buffy said scathingly, irked by her brother's overprotectiveness.

Dean stuttered some half-formed words before finally muttering, "I need brain bleach."

"So," Sam said, "now what?"

"Got me," shrugged Bobby.

"We watch him in shifts," Dean instructed, "just in case. I got first."

"I'll take second," volunteered his brother.

"Third," Bobby said.

"There is no fourth shift, is there?" an annoyed Buffy wondered, her arms folded.

"Buffy," Sam said softly, "if he's Angelus the first thing he's probably going to do is go after you."

"But—"

"Little lady," Bobby sighed, "give over. Your brothers are gonna worry themselves sick if they don't make sure Angel's on our side."

Buffy's brothers cringed in preparation of a minor explosion when they saw the set of her jaw. Miraculously, the girl acquiesced. "Fine. I'll be on the couch." She then stomped up the stairs to perform her normal nightly routine, albeit with a lot more unnecessary noise.

Dean departed the area for the panic room and came back stake in hand. He assured Sam and Bobby that he'd be fine and sat down on the floor across from Angel.

"They're gone?" the supposedly comatose vampire murmured after the others had climbed the stairs.

"Yup," Dean replied. "You know, it's kinda hard to get a pulse from a dude that's technically dead." He sighed. "So. How'd it happen?"

"You first."

The hunter gave a wry chuckle. "An angel pulled me out."

Angel pushed himself up and turned to look at Dean. "An actual… um, angel?" the vampire asked, stumbling over the name of the being that shared his cognomen.

"Apparently. Kind of a douche if you ask me."

"Why?"

"I don't know," Dean grumbled, exasperated by the situation. "Apparently there's some big job I'm supposed to do but, hey, guess what, they're not telling me what it is."

The vampire lay back down, his face turned away. Dean closed his own eyes, dread twisting his gut. "Hey, look—"

"Dean," Angel cut in tiredly. "Later."

The hunter sighed. "All right."

Vampires didn't need oxygen, but, according to the one in front of him, their brains couldn't let go of the reflex. Since Angel's non-breathing movements had become slow and steady, it seemed safe to assume he was asleep. Dean tried to think of something else, _anything_ else, other than what had happened in Hell between him and the creature before him and failed. Fortunately, a distraction arrived of its own accord.

Dean jumped when he heard what sounded like large, feathered wings. He became even more perturbed when he saw the source.

Castiel stood casually against one of Bobby's shelves, arms folded. As Dean approached, the angel quietly said, "Excellent job with the witnesses."

"You were hip to all this?"

"I was made aware."

"And what about that?" Dean hissed as he gestured backwards towards the vampire.

"Yes."

"Well, thanks a lot for the angelic assistance. You know, I almost got my heart ripped out of my chest!"

In the face of Dean's rage, Castiel was nonchalant. "But you didn't."

The pair argued a few minutes more about the existence of God and, according to Dean, His apathy regarding the suffering on Earth. In the midst of Dean's diatribe, Castiel revealed that his vocation was more militaristic than protective, and that the reason he and his brethren walked among them was to block Lilith's ultimate ambition.

"The Rising of the Witnesses is one of the 66 Seals," the angel clarified. " _She_ performed the spell. Twenty other hunters are dead."

"Of course," Dean said miserably. "She picked victims that the hunters couldn't save so that they would barrel right after us." The hunter wiped a hand down his face. "Well, we put those spirits back to rest."

"It doesn't matter. The seal was broken."

"What does that mean?"

The angel grimaced. "Think of the seals as locks on a door."

"Okay. The last one opens, and…?"

"Lucifer walks free."

Dean made a sound of disbelief. The angel cocked his head curiously at him. "Why else do you think we are here?"

"Well, bang up job so far," the hunter snarled. "Stellar job with the witnesses. That's nice."

Ominously, Castiel pushed off of the rack and stepped into Dean's personal space. "We _tried_. There were two seals broken today. We lost both battles to prevent that from happening. Our numbers are not unlimited. _Eight_ of my brothers and sisters died today."

"Two?" Dean repeated as he tried his best not to back away from the angel.

"It was foretold that a beast must rise from Hell." Castiel looked pointedly at the vampire. "There was only one residing there at the time."

That brought up more questions for Dean, the first and foremost being where monsters were _supposed_ to go. He shelved his curiosity in the face of larger concerns. "I thought demons weren't powerful enough to pull something like that."

"One demon? No. A hundred, a _thousand_ demons forced to sacrifice themselves for Lilith's whim?"

"So we might be seeing more of what happened today? What the fuck, man?" Dean managed to keep his voice down to a hoarse whisper despite his growing rage. "You told me there's some big job for me to do. Can't help thinkin' it's _real hard_ to do that if I'm dead!"

"You think the armies of Heaven should just follow you around? There's a bigger picture here." The angel took another step forward. At the wrath in his eyes, Dean finally made step _back_. He cursed himself for pushing this creature so far when he had no clue how capricious or how powerful it was. "You should show me some respect," Castiel growled. "I dragged you out of Hell. _I can throw you back in._ " With another fluttering of great wings Castiel was gone.

"Wow," Buffy remarked quietly from her perch midway up the stairs. "He's kind of a dick."

Dean stifled a curse at the intrusion. He peered through the dark at his sister. "Ain't you supposed to be sleeping?"

She shrugged. "I guess." Her gaze drifted to Angel. "Is… Is he going to be okay?"

"Eventually."

"Good. That's good." Buffy sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. "Dean, I want to go home."

Her brother's eyebrows shot up. "Really?"

"Yes. Is that okay?"

"Yeah, of course. We driving?"

"If you don't mind. And… And we need to take Angel with us."

Buffy prepared for the inevitable recriminations regarding her vampiric boyfriend. Surprisingly, her brother said, "All right. But that means we're just driving at night. Might take a lot longer to get to Sunnydale."

"I'm okay with that." She hugged her knees. "Dean, do you think mom will forgive me?"

Dean sat next to her and put an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him as he said, "Buffy, if _dad_ wanted to make up with Sam then I think you and your mom will be fine."

"If you say so." Buffy yawned. "I'm going to head back to bed." She gave her brother a hug then kissed him fondly on the top of his head. "I'm happy you're back, Dean. I missed you."

He smiled back at her. Once she'd disappeared up the stairs he went back his vigil, desperately wishing there was something he could do to make the vampire go away.

* * *

 _Undeterminable Day_

* * *

"Beer," Dean offered.

"Green," added Angel. "Just… anything growing and green."

It was their end-of-day routine. Each one of them would think of things they missed, as much as they could that would remind them that there was something to look forward to if they could figure out how to escape. The only time they skipped their sessions was if one or the other of them had suffered something that prevented speech. A particular sequence of small taps on the wall signaled when that had happened.

"Zeppelin," Dean said.

"Sinatra," Angel countered.

"Seriously?"

"Met him once. Nice guy."

"Man, closest I ever got to a celebrity was… well, I don't think I've ever gotten close to a celebrity. Betcha there's a few down the hall."

The two shared a quiet chuckle. In the silence that followed the sounds of their fellow damned floated into their cells, dispelling their camaraderie in a miasma of despair. Dean drew in a shuddering breath. "How long has it been?"

"Don't do that," Angel warned. "Don't head that way."

Dean blinked back his tears. "Yeah."

* * *

 _October 2007_

* * *

Awash in memories, Dean couldn't sleep. He forewent waking either Sam or Bobby for their shifts watching over Angel and kept his vigil all night. In the morning, both men were annoyed at Dean's decision, but lay their irritation aside when he told them of Castiel's visit.

They decided to gather in the panic room along with Angel who, due to the sunlight, listened in from the doorway. He was dressed in Dean's clothes, the vampire being relatively close in size, and although Buffy inwardly thought the sight of him in her brother's jeans and plaid button-up was hilarious she managed to hold in her mirth. Barely.

"Lucifer," Sam uttered after Dean was done. "He's real."

"Pitchfork and horns and all?" asked Buffy.

"Dunno," Dean said with a shrug.

"These seals," Angel said quietly. "What are they?"

Bobby nodded. "Be helluva lot easier to stop Lilith if we knew what we were supposed to be stopping."

Dean sighed. "Yeah, well, Douchebag the Angel wasn't exactly talkative after I pissed him off."

"If we undid what was done," Angel asked, "would the seal be remade?"

"You _can't_ —" Buffy gasped, realizing what the vampire was proposing: to undo the seal broken by his ascent from Hell by going back.

Her eldest brother cut her off. "We sent the ghosts back, but the seal was still broken. Sounds like once shit's done then it's done."

"So now what?" Bobby groused.

Buffy and Dean glanced at one another. "We're headin' back to Sunnydale," said the hunter.

Sam's eyebrows lifted. "Really?"

"You're comin' with," Dean told Angel.

"We are _not_ carting a vampire across the damn country," Sam snarled.

"I can make my own way," Angel offered.

The subsequent argument went nowhere. While they expressed it dissimilarly, Sam and Angel were on the same side; both of them wanted the vampire to figure out his own method of transportation. Buffy disagreed on principle, but they were all a little surprised that Dean was so defensive of the monster. Bobby had no opinion other than the desire to throttle the lot of them for the constant bickering.

In the end Buffy drew Sam aside and gave him an ultimatum: either he give in or she'd spill his secret. He capitulated furiously, stomped up the stairs, and was out of the house before anyone could object.

It was barely noon at this point which meant they had several hours to wait before it was safe for Angel to be in a car. Dean took the opportunity to fall into the sofa and catch up on lost sleep.

After edging around the sunlight and the devil's trap, Angel took up one of Bobby's tomes on celestial beings and sat at the panic room's desk to read. He was surprised when a shadow fell across the pages. "Buffy," he said cautiously. "Where's Bobby?"

"Went looking for Sam." The young girl twisted her fingers nervously. "Angel? Are… Are you okay?"

"Yes." The vampire looked at her, puzzled. "Of course."

"But… But you were in Hell… and-and-and you were there because of me." Her eyes filled with tears. "Will you ever forgive me?"

Angel stood up but hesitantly stayed at arm's length. "Buffy. It wasn't your fault."

"It _was_. Don't lie!" she cried.

The vampire reached out and took her hands in his. "I went there because of _me_ , no one else. I remember what happened. I remember that… that I killed people. That I killed Jenny Calendar."

"It only happened because I—"

"Because _we_ decided to do something," Angel said firmly. "Something that two people who love one another often end up doing. Buffy," he said as he brought her hands up and kissed them softly. "I love you. I always will. And even if it never happens again, I will never forget being with you."

Buffy fell into his arms and held him tight, her tears flowing freely. Angel reciprocated, her scent filling his nose, the feel of her pressed against him a wonder that he had feared he would never experience again. She leaned back and tipped her head up, lips parted slightly for a kiss. The vampire obliged, relishing in warmth of her, wishing that it would never end.

They held one another, Angel leaning against the desk and Buffy against him, just for the pleasure of being close. Finally, in a small voice, Buffy asked, "What was it like?"

"What was what like?"

"Hell."

Angel frowned. "Dean didn't say anything?"

"He said he doesn't remember."

The vampire suspected Buffy's brother had lied to her, but if Dean wanted to keep secrets then he had no right to pry. Angel knew what Dean had gone through and what he had done. If the man had decided to plead ignorance and move forward then perhaps it was for the best.

* * *

 _Undeterminable Day_

* * *

"I can't do it anymore."

Dean had been saying that a lot more lately. He'd told Angel that at the end of the day the white-eyed demon would offer reprieve if Dean would pick up the knife and do unto others what had been done to him. Every day the man would say no.

At first Dean had boasted that his refusals had taken the form of defiant gestures and profanities that were sometimes literally spat in the face of the demon. Lately, however, Dean said he could barely drudge out the will form a simple denial.

Buffy's brother was breaking.

"You can," Angel urged. He was never given the same offer; apparently they just intended to make him suffer for eternity. "One more day. You can do one more day."

"You know what they did?" Dean whispered hoarsely. "They brought in Sam. He had _black eyes_. Then they brought in Buffy. And Sam… Sam… He… Oh God…"

The silence that followed was deafening. Angel already knew what sort of monstrous things they did to that visage of Buffy, but to make one brother watch another brother perform the acts was another level of depravity altogether. But there was one thing that kept him sane, and he had to remind Dean of that simple fact. "It wasn't them. Remember: it's never really them."

Dean's voice was thick and muffled. The vampire figured, at times like these, Buffy's brother had his head buried in his arms. "But what if it is? What if they're down here with us? What if Sam is really doing those things to her?"

This was a new sentiment. This was an _alarming_ sentiment. For all the days, months, years they'd been down here, Dean had been amenable to the idea that his brother and sister were still up above leading what constituted (for them) a normal life; that no matter how many illusions of his family appeared none of them were tied to reality. The fact that Dean now doubted Hell's lack of veracity was deeply troubling.

"No, he's not," Angel said firmly. " _She's_ not. You need to hold on, Dean. Just a little longer. One more day."

"Yeah, okay," the man whispered despondently. "One more. I can do one more."

* * *

 _October 2007_

* * *

Bobby found Sam sitting between two cars with his elbows on his knees and a petulant look on his face. After making sure the man was all right, the elder hunter chastised him for his lack of pity ("That there vampire just got out of _Hell_ , Sam") and warned him to make things up with his sister sooner rather than later; the aberrant tension between the two siblings hadn't escaped Bobby's notice. He reminded the boy about how long things had festered between him and John and insinuated that Sam was on the verge of creating another irreparable rift.

Chagrined, Sam warily apologized to Buffy when he finally returned to the house. She took his words in with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Her brother knew that fixing the breach between them would involve revealing what he'd been doing. Just as Buffy had been worried what her mother would think of her being Called, Sam worried what anyone would think of his illicit activities. If Joyce's reaction was anything to go by, it was best to keep it to himself for now.

The drive to Sunnydale was made long by the varying difficulties between the Impala's inhabitants. Sam was still far from being able to trust the vampire, but as a reconciliatory gesture he persuaded Dean to let Buffy sit with Angel in the back. She warmed to him slightly after that, but their bond was far from mended.

Buffy's issues, other than those shared with Sam, stemmed from having no idea how to proceed with Angel. They still loved each other, true, but the ubiquitous problem of their relationship remained: she was human, he was a vampire. Combined with the knowledge of the horrors their desires could lead to, Buffy had a conundrum that made her heart hurt to think about. For now, though, she focused on a more immediate concern: whether or not her mother would actually welcome her back into the house.

Angel tried not to let it show, but as happy as he was to have Buffy in his arms again he was wretched with the thought of what his freedom had cost. He had been resigned to Hell, that being there was a just punishment for the atrocities he'd committed. If he had known that his resurrection was part and parcel of Lilith's plan to inflict Lucifer upon the Earth, Angel would have gripped tight to those blood-soaked cell walls. He was becoming more and more certain that he was undeserving of the scant amount of joy he'd been granted.

Dean's thoughts ran parallel to Angel's, except his guilt stemmed to what had become of him in Hell, not what had put him there. The fact that a reminder of his deeds sat behind him for hours cuddling with his baby sister was nearly unbearable. But however crippling his inner turmoil, it lay secondary to his confusion. What had happened to Sam and Buffy while he'd been gone? Buffy had already spilled her story over what she'd been forced to do to stop Acathla, but why had she left the comfort of home and friends? And what was Sam doing on the sly that had Buffy so suspicious? Why had Sam not taken better care of their sister?

Despite their anxieties, the trip went smoothly. They would begin driving as soon as the sun set. Around 4:30am they'd look for the nearest motel. Sam or Dean would book one room with two beds; Angel in one, Dean in the other, Buffy and Sam making do with either the couch (if there was one) or the floor. The day would pass either sleeping or watching television (or in Sam's case sneaking away to engage in his illicit activities) until it was time to go.

Four days later they arrived in Sunnydale. As it was the small hours of the morning they made their first stop the mansion that Angel had appropriated pre-Hell. It was still, thankfully, uninhabited, and since Sam and Dean were leery of the welcome they would get at Buffy's house the vampire offered them the spare bedrooms. One still had a collection of disturbingly gagged porcelain dolls that the brothers gleefully chucked over the garden walls.

When the sun rose, the siblings drove to Revello Drive.

While her brothers stayed on the sidewalk leaning against the Impala, Buffy shouldered her duffle bag and walked determinedly to the door. Her hand lifted in preparation to knock. Her foot, however, toed backwards just in case the door slammed in her face.

A haggard Joyce opened it almost immediately. Mother and daughter stared at one another, the former in shock and the latter in dread. Then Joyce lifted the bag from Buffy's shoulder and stepped back to allow her inside.

The woman looked up at the two men waiting anxiously by their car. She frowned.

Then she closed the door.

"Shit," Dean muttered.

"I don't blame her," Sam said quietly.

"Yeah, me neither. Fucking dad and his secrets."

Sam sighed. "Now what?"

"Let's stick around for a couple of days just in case." Dean shrugged. "Things go south then Buffy's gonna need us."

"All right.

"Besides, who knows what kind of new shit will crop up now that Buffy's back on the Hellmouth?"

* * *

 **Acknowledgement** : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episode, "Are You There God? It's Me, Dean Winchester" (SPN 4.02).

 **Author's Note** : I figured after Angel spent a century torturing himself after being cursed, forty years in Hell was probably like a vacation. Or maybe he's super into the M part of S &M. You never know.


	40. Book III: Chapter 40

(6/11/2017) In response to the guest reviewer (and some past comments), the reason I'm trying to transform Buffy lore into Supernatural lore is to try something new. My other crossover has the two existing side by side with explanations as to why and how and I felt like doing the same here would be kind of plagiarizing myself. At the very least, it gives a new flavor to the Buffy monsters that I so far haven't found in other fanfics.

Thank you **philly cheese dude** , **RHatch89** , **jkmp28** , **IoSolUno** , **thedarkpokemaster** , **Sage of Wind Dragons** , **missmeow1968** , **Princesskarlita411** , and **DullReign82** for the reviews! And all you favoriters and followers get cherry tomatoes!

* * *

Buffy and her mother dove head first into trying to get the girl back on a normal schedule by contacting the high school's administration in order to get her re-admitted. Unfortunately, the first person they caught up to was Snyder who, characteristically, was adamant that any measures necessary would be taken to prevent the Summers delinquent from blighting his halls. The abrupt departure of former substitute teacher Mr. Winchester, said delinquent's brother, in the midst of finals was also cited.

Defensive over his sister's mistreatment, Sam immediately began to research the legality of Snyder's stance. He was forced to do so at the local coffee shop (Angel having never considered wifi a home essential) and was taken aback when confronted by Buffy's friends.

Without preamble, Willow slid out the chair across from Sam and sat down. "Where have you been?" she cried.

"Uh," the hunter managed.

Xander remained standing, his arms folded. "Yes, how articulate. I'm sure _you're_ the intelligent brother."

"Hey!"

"We were so worried!" continued Willow. "I-I-I mean, not even a note to us or-or a call. Just one little text!"

Sam shut his laptop. "We were both having a difficult time. I'm sorry."

"So you go and take off without a word," Xander scoffed. "Real smart. No wonder you went to Stanford."

"We couldn't—"

"I'm not listening to this!" Willow stated. She lurched to her feet and stalked off, Xander close behind.

Bewildered, Sam said to no one, "But you two started talking to _me_." He opened his laptop, typed three words, and slammed it shut again when he realized someone else was sitting in Willow's abandoned seat. Irritated, the hunter snapped, "What?"

"What are you doing here, Sam?" asked the dark haired woman.

"Helping my sister. Why else would I be here?"

"We need to keep training. You're not going to be ready at this pace."

"Then find a demon. We're on the Hellmouth; there's got to be one or two."

"That's not the point! You're getting distracted."

"Ruby," Sam sighed, "with Dean back my family has to be my first priority. It's important to me to be there for them."

The demon frowned, her disappointment evident. Despite her attitude, Sam found himself distracted by her new vessel; its full lips, two big brown eyes, and, most of all, the enticing smell wafting out from every pore.

His obsessive stare did not go unnoticed. "Do you need it?"

Sam shook his head both to clear it and in denial. "I'm fine for now."

"Great," said Ruby, her flat tone belying the positive sentiment. "Well if you're so bent on staying here then I might as well let you know: some pissed off ancient vampire is heading this way."

"WHAT?" Sam cried indignantly. "And you were trying to get me to _leave?_ Are you insane?"

"Bigger picture here, Sammy. One vampire over Lilith? Your priorities should be the other way around."

"My sister is a _Vampire Slayer_ and you weren't going to tell me something like the Master is coming to town? He nearly killed her! He actually _did_ kill her!"

"That was years ago. She's more powerful now, and so are you."

Sam wiped a hand down his face, exasperated. Ruby's point that defeating Lilith, which could prevent the rising of Lucifer (and thus the Apocalypse), superseded the safety of a single teenaged girl was logically valid, but he wasn't ready to let his little sister go for the greater good. Perhaps eventually. After all, one life over seven and a half billion? Sooner or later hanging onto sentiment could cost them the entire world.

Fortunately, things weren't _that_ dire. Yet.

"Whatever," Sam finally said. "What's this thing's name?"

"He's called Kakistos."

* * *

Buffy called Dean to invite her brothers for dinner at her home that night, a prospect he found daunting. He suspected that whatever Joyce served would either be either poisoned or purposely disgusting and that he and Sam would be forced to choke it down for politeness sake. His sister begged, unwilling to make small talk with her mother and her friends, and her big brother resignedly capitulated. Desperate, the hunter tried to get Angel to join them and got a withering look in response.

After fortifying themselves with a few beers, Sam and Dean drove to Revello Drive. Their first clue that something was amiss was the abnormal crowd of teenagers striding around, one of which had the temerity to shout drunkenly, "Cool car, dude!"

Buffy's dumbfounded brothers double parked then shoved their way into her home. They found their sister walking about in a daze. Sam shouted her name over the band and she meandered in their direction. "What's going on?" he asked loudly.

"I'm not sure," she answered.

Dean grabbed his sister's upper arm and pulled her outside to the porch. "The hell is all this?"

Flustered, Buffy explained, "I-I-I just wanted to get back together with my friends and family and-and all these people showed up! And they don't even know why they're here. They think this is some party for a rehab returnee."

"You want us to clear the place?"

Buffy eyed her eldest brother askance. She was pretty sure Dean's method of sweeping the crowd from her home involved a variety of firearms. "No, it's okay. You guys go enjoy yourselves."

The brothers worriedly watched their sister thread her way back through the party. "I need another drink," Dean announced and, heedless of whether or not Sam followed, managed to push his way to the kitchen. It was empty save for Joyce and a portly middle-aged woman who were enjoying glasses of Schnapps.

He quickly turned on his heel and froze when the stranger said, "You're one of Buffy's brothers, right?"

"Yeah. I'm Dean."

"Pat," she said. The amount of sugary sweet congeniality the woman put into her name and her smile made Dean instantly recoil. "I'm part of Joyce's book club. Say, were you the one who took off with Buffy several months ago?"

"No." Dean tried surreptitiously edging his way to the exit.

"You know, I heard that one of her brothers had died! Such a tragedy! Are you _sure_ you're not the one that took her? I thought Buffy had only two brothers."

Thankfully, Dean's phone began to buzz. He pulled it out of his back pocket. "Oh, look. I need to take this. It was nice meeting you. Goodbye."

"Goodbye!" Pat said cheerfully as the hunter scurried out of the back door.

Relieved that the woman didn't follow, Dean answered his call. "What's up, Jeeves?"

"Oh. Oh dear Lord. Buffy said you were alive, but I… well, in any case, we have a situation. There's—"

"Hang on," Dean interrupted. The band had ground to a halt and he could faintly hear shouting coming from the living room. "I'll call you right back."

"No, wait—" came Giles attempt to forestall him. Dean ended the call and hurried inside. He found the partygoers frozen, fascinated by the tableau in the living room where Buffy and Sam were being verbally attacked by her mother and all of her friends.

"Did you even try talking to anybody?" Xander was demanding.

"Talk to anybody about what?" Sam snapped back. "None of you would have understood a damn thing!"

"Well maybe we would have understood it if—holy moley you _are_ alive," Xander gasped as he saw Dean enter the room.

"What the hell is going on?" the hunter demanded.

"What's going on is that Buffy finally needs to answer for running off like an idiot!"

"Excuse me?" The boy was nearly his height, but Dean used every millimeter to loom threateningly. "Do you even know what she went through?"

"No! And that's the point!"

"Bullshit! You're all just pissed because you were _worried_ and it made you _feel bad_. Well, boohoo, dickless! Maybe there was a fucking reason that she thought you wouldn't understand how messed up everything got that night."

"Oh?" A tiny little voice in Xander's head tried to remind him that Dean had a) been training since childhood to take things down that were much, much fiercer than a slightly built teenaged boy, and b) tended to walk around heavily armed. He, of course, ignored it. "Maybe if she didn't have such a lowlife for a brother she might have thought about someone other than herself!"

"That's it," Dean snarled as he grabbed Xander's shirtfront.

Sam and Buffy lurched forward to pull their brother away before he could do any damage as the surrounding partygoers raised an alarmed clamor. As Dean was yanked off of Xander, Oz managed to shout, "Okay, maybe we should all calm down…"

"Let them go, Oz!" Willow said in the ensuing quiet. "Talking about it isn't helping; we might as well try some violence!"

The possibility of an all-out brawl was arrested by the arrival, through the window, of what appeared to be a rotted corpse. It would have been nothing new on the siblings' end, stench included, if it weren't for the body's subsequent display of self-automation.

"I was being sarcastic!" Willow cried as Sam pulled her out of the room.

Dean drew his favorite ivory-handled pistol and fired two shots into the thing's head. Unfortunately, contrary to trope, the zombie kept moving. The hunter blasted out a profanity both at his failure and at the wave of corpses that began shambling in through the front door.

Various guests were either fleeing or grabbing likely makeshift weapons (fireplace implements, liquor bottles, a candlestick) and whacking or stabbing ineffectually at the creatures. One enterprising young man grabbed the lead singer's Gibson and caused its owner to cry, "Not my guitar! Use the bass!"

Buffy and a group of teenagers had bottlenecked the incoming corpses at the front door as Sam and Joyce smacked any that got in range. With a heave, the Slayer managed to shove the monsters away long enough to close the entrance. As she rallied partygoers to barricade the broken windows, Dean edged over to his brother. "Dude," he said, delighted. "Zombies!"

"Seriously?"

"Oh, come on, don't tell me you're not totally stoked to find out they're real. Not like that lame-ass reanimated chick in Illinois. Total freaking Night of the Living Dead!"

"Not _really_ since everyone in that movie dies!"

Deflated, Dean stuffed his handgun into the back of his jeans and muttered, "Killjoy."

The lull in the pandemonium was brief; moments later, the makeshift wall collapsed and the undead horde began to once again swarm in. Various members of the living fled or hid as best they could with some ending up fortifying themselves in the upstairs rooms. On the stairs they found an unconscious Pat. Sam and Dean dragged the woman out of the way of the mayhem.

Buffy, her family, and Xander and Willow all ended up in Joyce's bedroom. The brothers carefully placed their burden on the ground then joined Xander in barricading, and then holding, the door. Willow and Joyce checked on Pat.

"She okay?" Sam asked.

The red-headed teenager shook her head. "I think she's…"

Joyce gasped in horror. "Oh my God."

What must have been an extraordinarily large zombie slammed into the door and caused its defenders to be pushed back. Xander fell hard enough to slam into the wall. One of Joyce's artisanal masks fell from its hook onto the ground.

As they once again pushed back against the creature, Dean managed to fire into the wood and simultaneously wiggle his buzzing phone out of his pocket. A highly agitated Giles was on the other end. "It's a mask!" the Watcher cried without preamble. "A voodoo controlling device! It was hanging on Joyce's wall. Don't let anyone put it on or they'll become the manifestation of a _Petro loa_!"

"A what now?"

"A-A-A voodoo spirit, and an angry one!"

Dean ended the call and looked around. He spotted the mask lying on the floor at the same time that Joyce gasped, "Oh God! Pat! We thought you were—"

Buffy's mother was shoved violently aside by the reanimated corpse. Before Dean could give warning, Pat lurched for the mask and mashed it onto her face. Her flesh molded with the wood and a red glow lit up behind the zombie's eyes.

Distracted by the gruesome transformation, the room's defenders went lax. Their besieger managed to topple inside, but upon seeing the masked Pat the rotted corpse knelt down and cowered.

Joyce looked questioningly around. Dean summed up the situation by saying, "When the monsters get scared we're generally fucked."

In a garbled, unnaturally hoarse voice, the _loa_ groaned, "I live. You die."

Buffy took umbrage at the thing's presumption. She grabbed the body's shoulder and swiveled Pat around to face her. The red in the mask's eyes shone brighter as it gazed at the girl. Buffy found herself unwillingly frozen, one fist prepped for flight.

Satisfied that Buffy had been taken care of, the _loa_ turned its attention to the next victim in sight: Willow. As soon as the eyes left her face, Buffy's limbs began to respond again. She spotted the inherent danger to her friend and did the first thing that came to mind.

Her brothers and mother all shouted her name with varying degrees of alarm when Buffy tackled Pat and sent the two of them crashing through the second floor window. They landed with a sickening thump on the backyard lawn. Upon looking outside they found Buffy lying on top of the considerably larger woman. She waved a hand upwards to signal that she was fine.

The absence of the _loa_ , however, meant that its undead minion no longer had something to fear. It lurched to its feet and immediately reached out for Joyce. She backed up, her face a mix of fear and determination, and suddenly knelt to take something out from under her bed. A moment later Buffy's mother was wailing on the zombie's head with a baseball hat.

Sam and Dean exchanged astonished glances. They snapped out of their stupefaction when the creature grabbed Joyce's weapon and snapped it in two. As it lunged for the woman, Dean whipped his pistol out and fired into its back while Sam put himself directly into the monster's path. It immediately changed targets and wrapped its putrid digits around Sam's neck.

"Come on!" Dean urged Joyce, gesturing for her to get out of the way. Instead of heeding his advice she picked up one of the shattered halves of her bat and stabbed it into the zombie's side. It stumbled sideways and released Sam.

Dean withdrew his Bowie knife from inside his jacket and, with Joyce yanking on one arm and Sam on the other, brought it down to try and hack the thing's head off. In the next moment, however, the corpse had vanished and all three of them fell over in different directions.

Buffy's voice floated in from the window. "Made you look."

"Are you okay?" Joyce asked Sam worriedly.

He rubbed his neck and cleared his threat. "Yeah, fine."

The three of them hurried downstairs where they found all of Buffy's friends (including Xander and Willow, who had stolen away from the master bedroom to try and find their respective significant others) and her Watcher congregating in the foyer. When the Slayer emerged from the kitchen, Joyce repeated her query and added a big hug for good measure.

"So is this a typical day at the office?" asked Buffy's mother.

"This?" her daughter scoffed. "This was nothing."

Buffy and her friends began exchanging blandishments and laughter, their previous disagreements apparently shunted aside. As the teenagers reestablished their camaraderie, Sam inched towards Joyce. "Hey, do you want us to stay and help clean?"

"No," she sighed as she gazed about her demolished living room. "I think I'll wait until morning anyways."

Sam waited a few seconds for the usual invitation to stay over. When it became obvious it wasn't forthcoming, he said, "Okay. Dean, we better get going."

"Dude," said the eldest brother with an exaggerated sniff, "you smell like dead people."

" _Thanks_." As they passed Giles, Sam asked the pensive looking man, "You okay?"

"Fine," the librarian answered.

"What's with the face?"

"Oh, nothing. It's just that I remembered I have a meeting with Principal Snyder tomorrow morning."

* * *

Joyce's mood towards Buffy's brothers thawed considerably when they showed up unannounced the next day, tools and construction supplies in hand. While Dean worked on clearing the window panes, Sam helped Joyce tidy what they could inside. Broken furniture was lugged out to the curb and various party leavings were swept up and thrown out. The brothers then set out to repair both the glass windows and a few doors that had been smashed beyond restoration.

At one point Joyce even brought out ice cold beers for the two hard-working, and now shirtless, men. She quipped that her female neighbors (single and married) had had their faces pressed to their windows for the past several hours.

It was close to dinnertime by the time they were done and, to the brothers' relief, Joyce invited them to dinner and permitted them the use of the showers. Buffy had been hanging out with Willow in the afternoon, and upon arriving home informed everyone that things between her and her best friend were back to normal. The girl held back the knowledge that Willow had begun seriously dabbling in magic; she wasn't quite sure how deep Sam and Dean's prejudices lay regarding witchcraft.

The family had a regular pork chop and mashed potato dinner marred only by the looks that Joyce occasionally threw in Buffy's brothers' direction. Over pie, the woman finally revealed the reason behind her inscrutable glances.

"All right," Joyce said in a tone that had all three siblings on edge. "I'll get right to it. I spent a lot of the summer talking with Mr. Giles about Buffy's Slayer thing. I think I understand what it's about. But you two…" She sighed. "I need to know about hunting. And I need to know about John."

Sam and Buffy put down their forks while Dean scraped the last bit of crust from his plate. The three looked at one another before the eldest of them said, "It ain't pretty."

"Finding out my daughter is supposed to kill vampires and monsters isn't exactly pretty."

"I mean, I'm talkin' blood and death and literal Hell kind of not-pretty."

"Literal—" Joyce shook her head. "I don't care. I know my daughter's life isn't going to be the way I always imagined it to be, the way _any_ mother hopes their daughter's life will be. But you are her brothers, and if you being near her brings even more danger to her life then I need to know."

"Mom," Buffy said, both saddened and relieved over her mother's conclusions.

"Hush." Joyce took the girl's hand and held it tight. "No matter what, I will always love you." She looked at the boys. "And I will always love you two as well. But enough secrets," Joyce concluded definitively.

Sam blinked tears back at the compassion in her voice. He locked eyes with Dean. They couldn't tell her _everything_. Hell, they didn't even know everything themselves. The two would have to play it by ear on what should or shouldn't be revealed, but there was one caveat Sam was certain the both of them could agree upon. "Okay, Joyce," he finally said. "But on one condition. We need to teach you a few things: how to draw devil's traps, how to recognize some of the monsters, and—"

"—How to fire a gun," Dean stated.

Each requisite had Joyce's eyebrows crawling higher and higher. She blinked at her daughter. "It's for the best," Buffy told her.

Joyce shook her head and shrugged. "All right."

Dean picked up another slice of pie as Sam began to unfold their history. "It began with our mom…"

* * *

 **Acknowledgement** : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episode, "Dead Man's Party" (BtVS 3.02).

 **Author's note** : The "lame ass reanimated chick" is from the episode "Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things" (SPN 2.04). This chapter occurs prior to Samhain and, just personally, I never considered Croats actual zombies. I really wanted to make a Walking Dead reference but that didn't come out until 2010.

 _Petro loa_ are the angrier, more violent versions of the usual _loa_ (aka Haitian voodoo spirits). I might be using them completely wrong but I'm assuming it's in the ballpark at least.


	41. Book III: Chapter 41

(6/16/2017) This fic apparently tops 125K words at 41 chapters, more than some have at 100 chapters. I don't know whether to be proud of myself or to bang my head on the table for writing too much.

Thank you **Princesskarlita411** , **demon19027** , **Sage of Wind Dragons** , **jkmp28** , **thedarkpokemaster** , **IoSolUno** , **missmeow1968** , **Sal the Guest** , **RHatch89** , and **philly cheese dude** for the reviews! And everyone favoriting and following gets some California sunshine!

* * *

Joyce took things surprisingly well. Considering.

After getting the tale of Mary Winchester's murder and John's subsequent leap into the world of hunting, there were three things she wanted explained in full: John's death, Dean's death (and resurrection), and Heaven and Hell.

Joyce's ubiquitous ire at John softened slightly after hearing how and why Mary had died. Finding out that the man she'd had a daughter with had sacrificed himself to save his son brought tears to her eyes. "Sounds just like him," Joyce murmured. "Jumping headfirst into the most immediate solution and to hell with the consequences."

Her expression when she found out Dean had followed in his father's footsteps after Sam had been killed made Buffy's eldest brother cringe. "How could you?" she gasped.

"I wasn't thinkin'," he mumbled.

"Well, obviously!"

Joyce's reaction was so reminiscent of her daughter's that Dean prepped himself for a blow to the face. Thankfully, Buffy's mother showed more restraint. She contented herself with a tirade that had him hanging his head in shame (and had his siblings looking smug) which made it clear that she thought Dean's choice had been selfish and that he'd been beyond fortunate to have escaped his fate.

That discussion brought them to the topic of Heaven and Hell. Despite Dean's continuing protests that he didn't remember what had happened in the Pit all three siblings were adamant that Hell existed. Who went there and why wasn't quite as clearcut as the dutifully religious made it out to be, but for certain it was populated at least with those who had made pacts with demons.

The exact nature of Heaven, however, was a mystery to all of them. They revealed that proof of the existence of angels was a recent phenomenon; as in they'd only discovered their validity about a week and a half ago.

Joyce, just like her daughter, was enchanted at the thought. "Do they have wings? Are they watching and protecting us? Oh! Can I meet one?"

"Wings, yes," Dean replied. "Ain't sure about the protecting but apparently they're watching us. Or some of us." Then, mostly to himself, added, "God, it better not just be me. That'd be just frigging creepy."

"I don't know if it's a good idea to meet one, mom," Buffy said cautiously.

"Why not?" Joyce wondered.

"The only one we've seen is Castiel and he's kinda living up to the 'ass' part of his name."

Undeterred, Buffy's mother asked, "Well, how do you get one to show?"

"We did a summoning ritual thingy."

"Prayer?" Sam suggested. When Dean gave him a disparaging look, the younger brother added, "Why not? Isn't that what the lore says?"

"Then why haven't any of them shown up before?" Dean retorted.

"You said it's because they didn't really have a reason before now."

"Don't tell me if I start sayin', 'I pray to thee, Castiel, to show your feathery ass,' that he'll start showing up."

"Castiel," Buffy recited, her hands clasped and her eyes set beatifically up on the ceiling. "Oh, Castiel, angel of trench coats. Please show your feathery ass to us."

"I'm certain that's rude," scolded Joyce. "Maybe, 'Castiel, I pray to you, please come and bless us with your presence."

"Maybe something in Latin?" pondered Sam. "Castiel, _ego conjungo te_ …"

They expected to continue speculating, perhaps even calling Giles to get his opinion on the matter. What they _didn't_ expect was said angel to suddenly appear, gust of great wings and all. Joyce let out a yelp in surprise while the three siblings all jumped out of their seats and brandished cutlery.

"Please stop," Castiel said to the gathering. "It's very annoying."

Flabbergasted, Joyce was unable to form a complete query. "Who…? What…? How…?"

The angel then turned a jaundiced eye at Sam. "The correct word is ' _conjuro_.' I have no intention, now or ever, of joining you in holy matrimony."

Embarrassed at his error, but still excited at finally meeting an angel, Sam smiled tremulously at Castiel. He put down his steak knife and proffered a hand. "It-It's good to meet you…"

Buffy, however, was too irked at the angel's brusque arrival to be courteous. She interrupted her brother's attempt at congeniality by shoving him aside. "Is this a thing you do?" she demanded of the intruder. "Just show up without asking?"

"But you _were_ asking," Castiel replied, baffled.

Buffy opened and closed her mouth a few times, bereft of a witty response; they _had_ been praying to the angel even if they hadn't expected to actually summon him. "Next time you knock, got it?"

"That seems unnecessary and inefficient."

"It's called 'being polite'! Learn it!"

Bemused at her impertinence, Castiel looked at her brothers. "Are all humans this presumptuous?"

"She's, um…special," Sam said in an attempt to placate him.

"Yeah," added Dean. "Special ed."

"Butthead," Buffy threw at him.

"Midget."

"Dean," Castiel said, his focus suddenly narrowed to the named individual. "You will be coming with me. You need to stop it."

"Stop what?"

The angel placed the tips of his first two fingers on the hunter's forehead. A moment later, the pair was gone.

"What just happened?" Joyce asked, bewildered.

"I think Dean was just angel-napped," answered Buffy. The girl then shouted, "Hey!" as her remaining brother charged for the front door. She grabbed his sleeve as he turned the handle. "Where are you going?"

"Where do you think? To go find Dean!"

"Yeah?" Buffy let him go and folded her arms. "Starting where?"

"I dunno! At least drive around and see if he's in town!"

"Sam, Dean could be in Timbuktu for all we know. Or Mars. Or upstairs in my underwear drawer! Just sit and think for a bit."

Someone knocked on the door before Sam could retort. Joyce approached as he yanked it open and revealed his "girlfriend" standing on the stoop. At first the newcomer's expression was sour, but upon seeing Buffy's mother the woman affected a friendly face.

"Hello," Joyce said congenially. "Can I help you?"

"This is, uh, my girlfriend," Sam stuttered. Then at the delight in Joyce's eyes added, "No, no I mean, uh, my friend. Who's a girl."

"Smooth," deadpanned Buffy. She focused on the creature at the door. "What do _you_ want?"

"Buffy!" scolded her mother.

"Just to talk to my friend," the woman said sweetly. "My friend who's a boy."

"Fine, whatever," scoffed the Slayer. She pushed her brother over the threshold. "Have fun," she concluded as she slammed the door shut.

"What was that all about?" Joyce wondered, overwhelmed by the past hour's events.

Buffy ticked the first point off her index finger. "Castiel is the one who pulled Dean out of Hell. _Apparently_ they're besties or something now and they'll just take off whenever." She ticked another point off of her middle finger. "Sam has a secret girlfriend that he doesn't want Dean to know about." She ticked the final point off of her ring finger. "Said girlfriend is a skanky demon or vampire or something. I don't like her."

"Oh." Buffy's mother blinked a few times then shook her head. "Well, come help me clean up."

"Do I have to?" whined the teenager.

"Yes. Even with Slayers and angels and demons about the dishes still need to be done."

* * *

No longer impeded by a small, imperious sister, Sam headed straight for the Impala. Ruby slid in front of him and put a hand on his chest. "Hey! What the hell is going on?"

"That angel took Dean!" Sam snarled softly, conscious that they could be easily observed.

Ruby's lips pressed tight. "If the angel has him then there's nothing you can do for now. What you _can_ do is come with me to take care of this demon I've got trussed up and waiting. Who knows? Maybe he has some answers."

"But—"

"Tell me you've got a better idea."

Sam sighed in resignation. "Fine. But if he has nothing then I'm moving on." After all, there was the minuscule possibility that the demon _did_ know something. Maybe they could at least ask it if there were defenses against angels.

Sam absolutely was not going off to do this thing just so he could tap into his powers again; just to feel the ecstasy of that dark energy flowing through him; just to be in Ruby's intoxicating presence.

No. Absolutely not.

* * *

Dean reappeared in his bed at Angel's mansion a few hours later. His gasp of horror brought the vampire running, not only for its tone but for the fact that his formerly empty abode now suddenly had a second occupant. Angel screeched to a halt at the doorway that was once Drusilla's and saw Dean sitting up in bed over the covers, knees drawn up and hands fisted in his hair, with a stranger in a trench coat standing off in one corner.

"Dean?" Angel asked warily as he shifted his eyes back and forth between the two men.

"Liam," the visitor said by way of greeting. Taken aback at being addressed by his birth name, Angel gaped. His preternatural sense of smell caught something that triggered a memory, one from several years prior, of a thing wearing a ludicrously outdated outfit who claimed to be a demon.

"What are you?" Angel finally demanded.

"I am an angel of the Lord."

The vampire decided to clarify his previous encounter. "Was Whistler one of you?"

"Yes."

An expanded answer seemed not to be forthcoming. Angel wanted to ask more, to at least find out what Whistler had been aiming for when he'd recruited him all those years ago, but Dean had finally regained his equilibrium. "I couldn't stop any of it," he spat viciously at the angel. "She still made the deal. She still died in the nursery, didn't she?"

Angel blinked. From what he could recall of their talks in Hell, Dean was most likely referring to his mother. The rest of it, however, made absolutely no sense.

"Don't be too hard on yourself," said the angel. "You couldn't have stopped it."

Stunned by this revelation, Dean unfolded his legs and rose to his feet. "What?"

"Destiny cannot be changed, Dean. All roads lead to the same destination."

"That's ridiculous," Angel inserted.

The vampire felt fear skitter up his spine when the being's piercing blue eyes settled on him. "You also have a destiny. One written in blood and foretold to cause great destruction."

A wave of despair washed over Angel. The notion that he should be caged back in Hell took root once again. Hoping to goad the creature into acting, the vampire impolitely queried, "How can you be so sure?"

The angel's eyes narrowed as Dean snapped out, "Cass—" He grit his teeth, unwilling to give a fond nickname to the thing causing him such anguish. "Castiel. Why the _fuck_ would you even send me back then?"

"Send you back where?" wondered Angel, his own distress fading away before confusion.

Apoplectic with rage, the hunter shouted, "This feathered dickhead sent me back in time just so I could watch Azazel trap my mother into a deal!"

"It was so you could know the truth," Castiel said calmly. "Now you know everything we do. We know _what_ Azazel did to your brother. We just do not know _why_. He went to great lengths to cover it up."

"That was cruel," Angel admonished quietly.

There was a fleeting moment where the vampire could have sworn doubt and regret crossed Castiel's face. Then proper stoicism reasserted itself. "I had my orders," he said definitively.

Dean blurted another obscenity. He then looked around wildly. "Where's Sam? And Buffy?"

"She is at home. He is at a warehouse on Waterman. Number four hundred twenty five." Castiel frowned deeply. "Your brother is headed down a dangerous road, Dean, and we are not sure where it leads. So stop it. _Or we will_." With the flapping of tremendous wings, the angel was gone.

Dean's brow furrowed. "What the hell is Sammy doing there?" He shook his head. "Hey, you know where that is?" he asked the vampire.

"Yes."

"You gotta car?"

"No."

"Well, let's go get one."

* * *

After Dean hot-wired one of their neighbor's cars (a late eighties BMW that looked as if it had seen better days) Angel directed him to the address in question. It was one of many dilapidated business holdings falling victim to the recession. Despite the sign crying its discounted price and historical value it seemed to be slated for abandonment. The structure's financial woes, however, couldn't possibly have led to what atrocities were being committed inside.

What Dean and Angel found put the former in a towering rage. Sam was exorcising demons. _Telepathically._ Not only that, but he was apparently doing it with the aid of _Ruby_.

A heated confrontation took place during which Sam had the audacity to defend the resurfaced hellspawn from Dean's assault. Seeing that the victim of the exorcised demon required medical assistance, Angel reluctantly held the elder brother back so Ruby could bring the human to the emergency room. The vampire didn't think Dean was conscious of a hapless person; all that was on the man's mind was sticking the Kurdish knife into the belly of its previous owner.

As soon as he was released, Dean cast the vampire a murderous look before holding his hand out at Sam for the Impala's keys. He snatched them from his younger brother as soon as they were in reach, stomped out the door, and, in a spray of gravel, roared out of the driveway.

Forlorn, Sam glanced at Angel hoping that the vampire might have something, _anything_ , to say that would alleviate his guilt. The creature deigned to make judgement. Instead Angel merely turned and left.

At this point Sam figured nothing was best.

* * *

Although the vampire had left the purloined BMW sitting outside the warehouse, Sam decided to walk back home. Sunnydale wasn't a large city by any means and it gave him hours to think uninterrupted. Unfortunately, despite weighing the pros and cons over and over he was unable to come to a decision. There was too much at stake, too many people he could save, to just throw his newfound abilities away.

But the thought of ostracizing himself from his family, from the people he loved and cared for the most, hurt fiercely. In the end, Sam thought it came down to whether he thought the lives of others were worth more than his own happiness. He could, feasibly, go on without his brother and sister and use what Azazel had corrupted him with to undo the infectious misdeeds spread by the demon's machinations. The possibility that the source of his powers might someday negate any of the good he would try to do barely crossed his mind. After all, under Ruby's tutelage everything Sam had done had been beneficial, not destructive.

When he finally arrived at the mansion the sun was peeking over the horizon. Angel gave him a cursory nod before heading into his lightless bedroom, but Dean was nowhere to be found.

Sam risked sending a text to his brother, which went unanswered, then one to his sister, which also went unanswered. With his stomach roiling in dread breakfast was out of the question. Coffee, however, maybe with a splash of something extra, was definitely welcome.

He was on his second cup when he heard the rumble of the Impala in the driveway. Sam noted, nervously, that Buffy tailed Dean inside. Both wore grim expressions.

In a valiant attempt to placate the both of them, Sam stood up and said, "Hey, I'm sorr—"

His apology was cut short when Dean's fist cracked into his cheek. Wryly, Sam wiped blood from his lip and asked, "Satisfied?"

Dean smacked him again. A finger tapped Sam on the shoulder as he tried to shake off the second blow. He turned and Buffy punched him hard enough to send him to the floor.

Sam groaned and tongued a cut cheek as Dean shouted down at him, "Do you even know how far off the reservation you've gone? How far from _normal_?"

"I'm just exorcising demons," his brother claimed defensively as he used the couch to pull himself up.

"WITH YOUR MIND!"

While Dean took a few breaths to calm himself, Buffy leapt into the breach, her voice rising with every syllable. " _This_ is why you were ignoring me? So you could go off and be BFFs with a _demon_?"

"I wasn't ignoring you!" Sam cried. "I thought you were okay. You didn't say anything!"

"Of course I didn't, Chief Drinks-My-Weight-in-Whiskey! I was trying to let you deal with your own issues first, but apparently you were already off dealing with them with some black-eyed ho."

Indignant, Sam lurched the rest of the way to his feet. Before he could confront his sister, however, Dean stepped in between. "What else can you do?" he asked, ominously quiet.

"I can send them back to Hell." Pleadingly, Sam added, "It only works with demons, and that's it."

Dean grabbed two handfuls of flannel and slammed his brother into the nearest wall. An iron candleholder rattled in protest. "WHAT ELSE CAN YOU DO?"

"I told you!" Sam yelled as he pushed Dean away, his anger momentarily overwhelming his contrition.

"And we have every reason in the world to believe that," Dean scoffed.

"Look," Sam said as he ran his fingers through his hair and hung his head, "I should have said something. I'm sorry. I really am." He looked hopefully from one sibling to the other. "But try to see the other picture here! The only other way we've seen that defeats a demon is Ruby's knife, and the knife _kills_ the victim! What I do, most of them survive!"

"This is just—" Buffy lifted her arms and let them drop. "Sam, it's _demon power_. Tell me one thing good that comes out of that."

"You," Angel said quietly from the hallway entry.

The three siblings stared at the sleep-tousled vampire. "Sorry," he apologized. "You weren't exactly being quiet."

"What do you mean?" Dean wondered.

"There's stories that the Slayer's power comes partially from a demon."

"See?" Sam said, hoping to be vindicated.

Dean stabbed a finger into his brother's chest. "The difference is she's got no choice and _you_ went and looked for it!"

"But she's using it for good. So am I!"

"I'm right here," said an annoyed Buffy.

The eldest brother folded his arms. "Then why did Cass tell me to stop you?" At Sam's shocked expression, Dean added, "He said that if I don't stop you, _he will_. See what that means, Sam? That means that _God_ doesn't want you doing this. So are you just gonna stand there and tell me everything is all good?"

Silence descended. Tears stood out in Sam's eyes as his siblings stared at him, fury unabated. Finally, Buffy sighed. "Are we calling him 'Cass' now? Because, honestly, 'Castiel' is kind of a mouthful."

Dean rolled his eyes as Sam's phone began to ring. He answered it, desperately trying to hide his anguish from whoever was on the other end. "Yeah, hey Giles… Oh. Oh yeah? …O-Okay. We'll be there soon as we can. Thanks." The hunter hung up and explained, "There's a vampire coming to town. Old one. His name's Kakistos."

"Great," Buffy groused.

"Giles wants us to meet him at his house. Apparently you're still not allowed on campus."

Buffy uttered an expletive that had Angel's eyebrows lifting and Dean smirking. She led the way out of the house, her eldest brother following. Left alone with the one-time Scourge of Europe, Sam pleaded, "You understand, right? I'm saving lives! It's better to do it my way!"

"I do understand," Angel said carefully. "But I also know what a slippery slope you're on."

"What do you know about it?" Sam retorted.

"Everything." The vampire walked closer to the man and took in his scent. "The first time I met you, I smelled it. Whatever the yellow-eyed demon did to you changed you. It wasn't so obvious before. But now," Angel said, his tone darkening, "you smell almost as much of demon as you do of human."

Stricken, Sam fell back against the wall. Angel's hope that Buffy's brother found this revelation to be a significant deterrent was dashed when the man said, "I can control it. I just… need to keep it at the level it's at. I'll be fine."

Angel approached and glowered up at him. "I'll only say this once," the vampire stated quietly in a tone that made a chill run down Sam's spine. "You do what you think you have to. You save lives if you think you're doing good. But if I find out that what you've become puts either Buffy or Dean in danger I will kill you myself. They'll hate me for it. But they'll be _safe_. You keep that in mind." Without waiting for a response, Angel headed to his bedroom.

Sam jumped when Dean barked his name from the car. He wasn't evil, Sam told himself. He was doing the right thing. They just didn't understand. But they would. Soon.

* * *

 **Acknowledgement** : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episode, "Metamorphosis" (SPN 4.04).

 **Author's note** : "Ego conjungo te," as far as I can tell (through google), is "I marry thee." It's probably not conjugated correctly or whatever, but I was just trying to substitute "conjuro" with something similar and funny ;)

The Slayer's origin will be slightly altered, thus Angel's comment. It'll be explained. Eventually. Sometime. Futuuuuuure.


	42. Book III: Chapter 42

(6/22/2017) My job takes me outdoors. Someone tell the sun that California summers are supposed to be pleasant, not scorching.

Thank you **princesskarlita411** , **jkmp28** , **thedarkpokemaster** , **RHatch89** , **IoSolUno** , **Sage of Wind Dragons** , and **philly cheese dude** for the reviews! And all you favoriters and followers get some nice air conditioning, ahhhhhh…

* * *

Not a single word was spoken on the fifteen minute ride to Giles' home. Sam was isolated in the back (somewhat uncomfortably as his legs had no room to stretch) while his siblings pointedly avoided looking at anything other than what was outside their windows. He consoled himself with the thought that at least his secret was out. Most of it. As soon as the others were over their shock, they'd be more amenable.

Unfortunately, Sam had forgotten one important detail: where Giles had gotten the initial information regarding the incoming vampire. "Ah, good!" the Watcher exclaimed as they walked in his front door. "Thank you for letting me know about Kakistos. This will give us ample time to prepare."

Sam's cheeks colored when Dean and Buffy glared at him. "Uh, yeah. You're welcome."

Dean shook his head, exasperated. "Whatever. So what's up with this muchachos guy?"

"Kakistos," Giles corrected automatically. "He's very, very old, so ancient that his feet and hands are cloven. It's possible he originated in Ancient Greece; ' _kakistos_ ' means 'worst of the worst' in that language."

"Do all vampires get hit with an ugly stick after a couple of centuries or something?" Dean wondered.

"The current theory is that the vampire's demonic essence eventually overtakes the human aspects. It warps them into something… well, something else."

"Wonder what Ang—umph!" Buffy cut Dean's speculation by elbowing him hard in the side. He glowered at her while rubbing his now bruised ribs.

Luckily, Giles was too engrossed in their current issues to acknowledge the hunter's slip. "Kakistos isn't as old as the Master, thankfully, but old enough. I doubt traditional stakes will work."

"I can throw him off a building, too," Buffy suggested.

"And what," Sam said, "make sure there's a forest of giant sharp wooden things that happen to be right below you?"

"Hey! I'm trying! It's not as if there's a whole bunch of vamps like the Master and Kissing Toast—" ("Kakistos," Giles amended quietly) "—are just running around all over the place."

"In any case," the Watcher said, "just be careful. We don't know why he's here or where he's at."

"Good times," Buffy deadpanned. She sighed. "Well, I better get home. Not as if I can, you know, go get with the learning or the slaying right now."

"Want a lift?" Dean offered.

"Nah. I could use the cardio." She gave her eldest brother a kiss on the cheek, ignored the younger one, and called, "Bye, Giles!" as she left the man's home.

The Watcher lifted his eyebrows at Sam. "Should I ask?"

When the taller hunter hesitated, Dean folded his arms and ordered, "Tell him. Or I will."

Recalling that he'd once said something similar in the Watcher's presence, Sam sighed resignedly. "I've been hanging out with… with Ruby. She has a new vessel," he inserted at Giles' narrowed eyes, "and she's helping me to develop my powers."

"E-Excuse me?" the Watcher asked as he leaned against his desk. "Are you talking about those psychic abilities you had?"

"Yes. Except now I can do more. _Much_ more." With the hope that he might have found someone sympathetic to his cause, Sam enthusiastically announced, "I can exorcise demons."

"How did this come about?"

Unwilling to let the final bit of his secret out, Sam merely shrugged. "Practice," he lied.

Giles removed his glasses and cleaned them as he thought. "If I remember correctly, the reason you and those others had these powers was due to something the yellow-eyed demon had done to you. Did you ever find out his name?"

"Yeah," said Dean. "Azazel."

The Watcher shot upright. "Azazel?" he parroted worriedly as he replaced his spectacles and hustled over to one of his innumerable piles of books.

"Yup. Why?"

Giles pulled out a significantly large tome and flipped around until he'd found the requisite page. "Ah, yes, here. Azazel, Prince of Hell."

"Hell has _Princes?_ " Sam asked, astonished.

"Not actual royalty, per se, but a rank of demon, only superseded by those known as the first demons: Lilith and Alastair." Unseen by his rapt brother, Dean flinched. "As far as can be told, there are four so-called Princes: Azazel, Ramiel, Dagon, and Asmodeus. In terms of the power structure of Hell, it has been theorized that it begins with Lucifer, then the first demons, then these princes. Some have speculated that there is an _additional_ rank between Lucifer and the first demons, but—"

Sam cut off the impending recitation with, "And what do they do?"

"We-We aren't _quite_ sure, but legend has it that they were the generals of Hell's armies."

"All right," Dean interjected, "enough with the lesson. The big point here is that Sam's usin' powers that came from a damn _demon_. Don't tell me that ain't wrong."

Giles looked sternly at Sam as he snapped his book shut. "What you're doing is very dangerous, Sam. I cannot believe you thought it was in any way appropriate."

Frustrated, the taller hunter threw his hands out. "Why does everyone keep telling me that? Why do none of you believe that I can control this?"

Giles and Dean exchanged glances. "Can you?" the Watcher asked quietly.

" _Yes_."

The Watcher shook his head then shrugged. "All right."

" _What_ —" started an outraged Dean.

"For now," Giles amended. "Perhaps you will prove us wrong, Sam." The Watcher walked up to the hunter. "And if you prove us right," he said darkly, "there are plenty of us that will be waiting."

* * *

Sobered by the two threats he'd gotten within the same number of hours, Sam made no further attempts at convincing his siblings of his ability to use and control his disclosed powers. Instead, the two brothers spent the rest of the day checking a number of the usual vampire haunts (empty warehouses, abandoned factories, large crypts) hoping to unearth Kakistos. They came up with nothing.

There was, at least, one good thing that transpired that afternoon. Following a visit to the district office (armed with some printouts provided by Sam), Joyce and Buffy had a meeting with Principal Snyder. It was made clear the man had no legal standing to prevent the teenager from resuming her education at Sunnydale High. He had a few caveats (take tests in math and literature, get two letters of recommendation from staff members not named Mr. Winchester or Mr. Giles), but overall it looked as if Buffy would be traversing the halls within the next few days.

They decided to celebrate the Slayer's reentry into the scholastic world with a get-together at The Bronze. Around six, Sam and Dean joined their sister, Willow, and Oz in a comfortable couch-filled alcove and partook of beer, soda, and a heaping amount of unhealthy food. While the siblings managed to shelve their disagreements temporarily in order to have a good time, their behavior was aberrant; Sam was quieter than usual, Dean got drunker than usual, and Buffy danced by herself for far longer than she was wont.

An hour and a half in, while Buffy took a break and gulped down a Diet Coke, a boy approached. "Hi, Scott!" Willow exclaimed, her affected surprise painfully obvious. "What are _you_ doing here?"

Slightly bewildered, Scott answered, "You told me if I came tonight I could run into Buffy."

Dean, from a high table behind the boy, snorted loudly. "Uh, I'm sorry," said a flustered Scott after jumping at the noise. "I'm a bad liar. It's not good for the soul. O-O-Or the skin, actually. It makes me blotch."

"Dweeb," the hunter muttered into his beer.

Both Sam and Buffy shot their brother a dirty look. The latter smiled at the boy. "Hi, Scott."

"Hi," he replied.

The group fell into an awkward silence, much to Dean's hilarity. As he tried and failed to resist the urge to snicker into his beer, Buffy's friends watched in anticipation of what they hoped would be the beginnings of a beautiful romance. Eventually, Scott stuttered out an invitation to dance which the blonde awkwardly declined.

"Okay, you know what?" the boy said amiably. "I'm just gonna go stand by the dance floor. If you change your mind you can mosey on over, and then if not then you don't mosey. No harm, no foul, right?"

"Right," Buffy said halfheartedly.

They all watched the somewhat dejected Scott head off. "Actually," Dean slurred, "gotta give the dweeb credit for that last bit."

"You okay?" Sam asked his sister.

"Meh," she responded.

"Come on, Buffy," Willow pleaded. "I mean, the guy is charm, a-and normal, which is what you wanted to get back to."

"Plus bonus points for use of the word 'mosey'," added Oz.

Sam edged in closer to Dean and said, as quietly as possible, "Did she not tell them about Angel?"

Dean peered drunkenly at his brother. "Is there something she should've told them?"

"That he's alive?"

"Oh. I'o'know. Prob'ly for the best."

"Why?"

"'Cause, you know, Hell and stuff."

Sam started to ask for clarification when Cordelia and Xander walked up, hand in hand. "Check out Slut-O-Rama and her Disco Dave," scoffed the cheerleader.

The group turned towards the dance floor. They were able to spot the dark haired girl with blood red lipstick and skintight clothing immediately, mostly due to her improbable partner. In a style entirely inconsistent with his surroundings, the somewhat handsome man in a low dipped, v-neck shirt was energetically performing an homage to Saturday Night Fever. He wouldn't have been out of place had there been a disco ball and a lighted floor, but in a twenty-first century club he stood out glaringly.

"What was the last thing that guy danced to?" derided Cordelia. "K.C. and the Sunshine Band?"

"How do you even know who that is?" Dean asked curiously.

"Some of us listen to more than just hair bands and stuff my _grandpa_ likes."

Dean muttered something profane and sulky as Buffy and her friends continued to gape. Eventually the girl gestured invitingly and she and her anachronistic paramour headed for the back exit with their arms around one another.

"I don't think that guy thrives on sunshine," Buffy announced as she followed.

"You coming?" Sam asked his brother as the rest of them stood.

"For one frigging vamp?" Dean scoffed, incredulous.

Sam rolled his eyes and headed off after his sister. Hungry and not inebriated enough for his liking, Dean took the opportunity to order another beer and some fries. He ogled some of the co-eds, but remained aloof to their attempts to approach. Dean grumpily figured it probably wasn't a good idea to fondle a girl on his lap in front of his little sister.

The hunter expected them to come back with a weepy maiden in tow. Instead, they returned with a swaggering brunette who took advantage of Dean's focus on her cleavage to swipe his fries.

"Hey!"

"God, I could eat a horse," the girl said as she sat on the back of a couch and bit through a tastily seasoned potato. "Isn't it crazy how slayin' just always makes you hungry and horny?"

At the inquiring looks from her friends (and nauseated ones from her brothers) Buffy sat and sank into the cushions as far as she could go. "Sometimes I crave a nonfat yogurt afterwards."

"Oh, thank fucking God," Dean muttered.

Sam made belated introductions. "Faith, Dean. Dean, Faith. The, um… Vampire Slayer."

"Who is a what now?"

"Slayer," Faith clarified as she polished off Dean's food. She smacked her hands clean and leered at the pair of older men. "So. Sam. You guys single?"

"Okay, ew," Buffy said. "Those are my brothers, Faith."

"Well, that means you're not dating them. Right, B?"

Dean sprayed a mouthful of beer onto Sam and ended that discussion. Thankfully, Willow queried Faith on how she liked being a Slayer and the newcomer backed off on flirting with the Winchester brothers (much to all three siblings' relief). The newcomer then gleefully launched into various tales including wrestling an alligator and rescuing a church group from a nest of vampires. Naked. Cautious, Oz determined the new Slayer's stance on werewolves ("Hey, as long as you don't go scratchin' at me or humpin' my leg, we're five-by-five, you know?") while Sam took a moment outside to call Giles.

When Buffy's younger brother returned, he announced that Giles wanted to see them as soon as possible. The group eagerly piled into Cordelia's BMW and the Impala and headed to the library hoping for the chance to see the Watcher's astonishment firsthand.

To their disappointment, Giles was not as surprised at meeting the new Slayer as he was disappointed at not being invited to the Retreat that Faith's Watcher was attending. He pouted a bit at being denied the honor which prompted Faith to try and make him feel better by calling him "young and cute."

"Raise your hand if, ew?" Buffy asked, displaying said gesture. Dean and Xander both complied.

Giles gave an embarrassed chuckle. "Well, um, uh," he stuttered, "leaving aside for a moment my, uh, youth and beauty, I'd-I'd say it was, um, fortuitous that Faith arrived when she did. Two people have disappeared from the Sunset Ridge District."

"You think it might be Kakistos?" Sam inferred.

"I hope it's just _normal_ vampire mayhem, but it's worth checking."

"Yeah, sounds good," Faith said, her voice a shade less brash than it had been all night. "You good to go, B?"

"No," Buffy answered. "I'm good to go to _bed_. Dead people won't get any deader, right?"

"I suppose not," Giles conceded. "But be out tomorrow night as soon as possible."

"So where you staying?" Willow asked Faith.

"Got me a room in a place. Motel right outside of town. I'm good."

The red headed teenager elbowed Buffy. "You can stay at my place," she offered sullenly.

"I'm five-by-five, B. Hey," Faith said, pointing to the Watcher as she walked to the door, "tomorrow, _we_ will talk weapons." As she exited, Buffy's friends followed her and clamored for more tales (hopefully, in Xander's case, with additional nudity).

"Where are the two of you staying?" Giles asked curiously after the rest of them had gone.

"A different motel," Sam lied.

"Well, with Kakistos about perhaps the four of you should consolidate housing for safety."

Still riding out the beers he'd consumed at The Bronze, Dean found the concept of the two Slayers and the two hunters holed up in Angel's mansion hilarious. Before he could blurt out the reason for his snickering, Buffy stomped on his foot and Sam said, "We'll be fine."

As Buffy had been wearing heels for their foray at the club, the impact of her heel on Dean's was far more painful than either of them expected. "Fucking shit shit shit!" he yelled as he hopped up and down. "What the fucking—"

The teenaged girl managed to grab one of her eldest brother's flailing arms and yank him towards the back door. Sam gave Giles a farewell on behalf of all three of them and they left the bewildered Watcher alone in the library.

Once Dean had limped off his wound, he asked, "Is there a reason why we ain't telling Giles about Angel?"

The other two siblings glanced at each other. "When he was Angelus," Sam said carefully, "he kidnapped Giles. And tortured him."

Dean blinked away the illusion of his hands covered in blood. "Oh."

"I'll tell him eventually," Buffy explained. "Just… I mean, let's let him stop being totally mad at me for this summer before I let him get totally mad at me for hiding Angel."

"Fine," Dean sighed. "But this shit where we're keeping secrets all the time? It's starting to blow up in our faces. _Right, Sam?_ "

The named individual grimaced and pulled open the passenger-side back door of the Impala. "Shut up."

* * *

Buffy spent the next school day taking her required mathematics exam and convincing her previous English teacher to write a recommendation. In the meantime, Faith was given the grand tour of Sunnydale High School by Willow and Xander ("And over here, we have the cafeteria where we were mauled by snakes and Sam got bit by a ghost bug." "Oh, and over there in the lounge is where Spike and his gang nearly massacred us all on Parent-Teacher night." "And over here is where Dean saved Xander from a locker monster!"). With some convincing from Willow, the new Slayer was invited to dinner at the Summers' home, Sam and Dean included.

More preoccupied with Joyce's delicious kneaded from scratch hamburgers than he was with anything else, Dean failed to notice the irritation wafting from his sister. Sam, however, discerned it nearly immediately and attempted to make small talk between Joyce the two Slayers. Unfortunately, Buffy was still wroth with him, too, and the effort only served to aggravate her further. Even more disconcerting was the way Joyce fawned over the new Slayer and her devil-may-care attitude.

Faith merrily ate through fries, broccoli, and nearly got into fisticuffs with Dean over the last burger. Joyce settled it by cutting it in half, much to both combatants disappointment. She then stood to get refills on sodas and beers, Buffy following quickly afterwards ostensibly to help. Seeing that Faith and Dean had become engrossed in comparing notes on the best way to gank vampires, Sam joined the pair having a hushed conversation in the kitchen.

"Couldn't she take over for you?" Joyce was asking.

"Mom," Buffy sighed, "no one can take over for me."

"But you're going to college next year. I think it would be—"

"Mom, the only way you get a new Slayer is when the old Slayer _dies_."

Joyce gasped in horror. "That means you… When did you die? You never told me you died!"

"Buffy," admonished Sam.

"I-It was just for a few minutes," Buffy placated.

"Oh, I hate this," her mother cried softly. "I hate your life!"

"It's not so bad as that," Sam said. "I mean, all three of us have died at some point."

"Sam," snapped Buffy, "not helping."

Joyce sighed. "Look, I know you didn't choose this. I know it chose you. I'm trying to understand and accept all of this, with your father and you two," she said apprehensively, gesturing at Sam, "and demons and angels and everything." Buffy's mother looked at her daughter, stricken. "But I don't want you to die."

The pair enveloped each other in a warm embrace. "I won't," Buffy promised. "I know how to do my job."

"We're here, too, Joyce," Sam supplied.

"Yeah," his sister muttered derisively as she and her mother parted. " _Now_ you are."

Joyce glanced from Sam to Buffy. She folded her arms. "Don't think I haven't noticed this… whatever this is between the two of you. What in the world went on after you left?"

The two siblings looked at one another. Hoping he could put things to right finally, Sam quietly said, "It's my fault."

He was grateful that his sister looked more confused than vexed at his admission. The longer their estrangement, the worse he felt. Now, however, wasn't the appropriate moment to expound on his mistakes. At hearing what sounded like the beginnings of an altercation in the dining room, Sam escaped by saying, "I better go make sure Dean doesn't get his nose punched in by a super-powered teenager."

They weren't fighting, but as Dean and Faith had started lobbing food at each other from across the table (apparently in an effort to try to catch various items with their mouths) Sam was glad he'd gone to intervene. As the new Slayer and the Winchester brothers bickered over the mess, Joyce asked her daughter, "Will you tell me?"

Buffy sighed, both for the request and for the annoyingly easy camaraderie that Faith had struck up with Dean. "Soon."

* * *

The illusion of the carefree Slayer with a healthy appetite for food, sex, and violence shattered a few hours later on patrol.

Buffy called Sam just prior to midnight to rant and rave about Faith maniacally beating down a single vampire while she'd been cornered by the thing's friends. Luckily neither of them had been hurt, but it made his sister nervous nonetheless. After the call, Sam shot a quick text to Giles about the encounter and told Dean that it was better to check on both girls just in case. The elder brother volunteered to go to Revello Drive to see Buffy and, after finding the only motel brave enough to exist on the corner of the Hellmouth, dropped Sam off to find Faith.

Forty dollars did wonders to loosen the tongue fat, unwashed manager of the Sunnydale Motor Inn. Sam hustled up to the second floor and knocked on room 24. "Faith?"

No answer. Sam knocked again. "Faith? It's Sam."

The door jerked open and the hunter found himself yanked inside. He eked out, "What—" before Faith's lips were on his. One hand snaked into his hair and the other began fumbling at his belt.

Fleetingly Sam figured it was good that Dean wasn't in his place (his brother's self control regarding willing women had the tensile strength of a cooked noodle at best) as he did his best to push the Slayer's hands away. He unplugged his lips and tried to ask, "Faith, what are—"

She gave up on his pants and settled for shoving him onto the bed. Before Sam could object, Faith was straddling his hips and sliding her hands under his shirt. The fact that the Slayer was finally not gripping him in one way or another gave the hunter the chance to toss her off directly onto the floor. She landed hard with an indignant, "Hey!"

Sam stood up and adjusted his clothes. "What the hell, Faith?"

"Don't tell me you weren't liking it," she retorted as she picked herself up.

As the automatic physical response to an intimate exploration of his body was patently obvious, Sam forewent denying the supposition. Instead, he stated, "I was _just_ coming by to see if you were all right."

"I'm good, Sammy."

"Not according to Buffy."

Faith sighed and shrugged. "I don't know what B told you, but I took care of a vamp and she got the rest. No big deal."

"She said that you pulverized a vamp's face."

"Yeah? So?"

"Why?"

The Slayer shrugged again. "Just relieving some tension, Sammy. Could be relieving more right now if you weren't such a prude."

Sam grimaced. "Well, if you're okay then I'll head out."

"Toldja. I'm good." Faith smiled coyly. "You sure you don't want to stay?"

Skeptical, but unwilling to press the issue (and definitely unwilling to take her up on the offer), Sam reached for the doorknob. Before he could turn it, however, someone knocked. Faith let out an exasperated sound as she approached. She looked into the peephole. "Motel manager. Been buggin' me about rent." She yanked open the door. "Hey, look—"

The body of the lowlife Sam had bribed earlier fell face first into the room to reveal a vampire that topped the hunter by a head, a deep groove cut into the right side of its face. His hands were grotesquely misshapen hooves and his cultish uniform spoke of a willing disassociation from humanity. He smiled in malicious anticipation and revealed fangs that were normally hidden in younger vampires.

"Faith," growled Kakistos.

* * *

 **Acknowledgement** : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episode, "Faith, Hope, and Trick" (BtVS 3.03).

 **Author's note** : The Prince of Hell thing is a season 12 reveal, but I figured, you know, Watchers being know it alls and stuff.

In canon, Faith takes off the second she hears about Kissing Toast, but I gave her a bit more time because plot. And stuff.


	43. Book III: Chapter 43

(6/28/2017) Only a few more favoriters and I hit three digits! Neat. Remember: reviews make a writer's brain keep going.

Thank you **IoSolUno** , **RHatch89** , **missmeow1968** , **Sage of Wind Dragons** , **Sal the Guest** , **jkmp28** , and **thedarkpokemaster** for the reviews! And all you favoriters and followers get jelly beans!

* * *

"Faith, run!" Sam shouted as he whipped his handgun out from the back of his jeans and fired at Kakistos. The vampire took the impacts in the chest stoically, mockingly, before sneering at the hunter.

Sam slammed the door shut (heedless of the corpse), braced it with his body, and cast his eyes about for something to hold it closed. Unfortunately, the motel Faith was staying in skimped on amenities; the only halfway decent piece of furniture was the bed and an analog television. "Faith!" he repeated.

To his disbelief the previously fearless, self-assured Slayer had her fists clenched in her hair and a look of abject terror on her face. "No," she moaned. "No, no, no, no, _no!_ "

Sam grunted as Kakistos slammed into the wood from the other side. "Faith?"

"He's here, he's here, he's going to do it to _me_ now and I'm dead! _I'm dead!_ Oh God!"

Perplexed, the hunter abandoned his attempt to hold back the increasingly aggravated Kakistos and rushed across the room. He pulled the girl with him towards the window just as the door splintered apart.

Kakistos let out an unearthly roar, his cloven hands clenched into fists. Deciding that a concrete impact would give them more of a chance of survival than facing a pissed-off, centuries-old demonic monster, Sam turned around and hurled the both of them through the glass.

Fresh air kissed their faces for a brief few seconds before the stench of garbage overwhelmed everything else. Thanking whatever slacker had left the pile of refuse in the motel alleyway, Sam yanked Faith to her feet. She was still in shock. Their time was short; gentle coaxing was going to take time they didn't have. He settled for a slap and braced for the retaliatory strike. The fact that the Slayer _didn't_ smack him back worried him.

"What's going on?" Sam demanded, his hands wrapped around her biceps.

"He killed my Watcher," Faith said softly, eyes wide with dread. "I was _there_. He made me watch while he… while he…" She drew in a shuddering breath. "There isn't a word for what he did to her. What he wants to do to _me_."

An animalistic snarl echoed out from one end of the alley. Three vampires (thankfully of the standard kind) were silhouetted by the street lamp. Seeing that the other side was empty, Sam urged, "Come on," grabbed the Slayer's wrist, and hurried towards what he hoped would be safety.

* * *

Other than being irked and dirty, Buffy was perfectly fine. Her hair still wet from the shower, Dean's sister sat in her desk chair wrapped in a robe and glowered at nothing.

"So?" the hunter asked from his perch on her bed.

"What?" Buffy snapped.

"That's it?"

"Isn't that enough?"

"So the chick's got issues. Not like you don't."

"Yeah, but I don't make hamburgers of vampire faces."

Dean lifted an eyebrow. "Remember the shtriga?"

Buffy flinched. She recalled swinging the bat over and over and over into the head of the hooded creature. Even though she knew what she was doing wouldn't kill it, the release of tension had felt so tremendously satisfying that even the little boy's screaming hadn't stopped her. Only after Sam had pulled her away and Dean had shot the mangled monster had she realized what she'd done. "That was different," Buffy said unconvincingly.

"Uh-huh," Dean replied.

"Okay, fine! But you can't tell me that having a girl with super powers and serious psycho issues doesn't worry you a little bit. The girl's not playing with a full deck. She has almost no deck. She has a _three_."

"Maybe, but—" Raucous music erupted from Dean's pocket. He brought out his phone and answered it on speaker. "I didn't know someone your age would be up past ten," he said by way of greeting.

"Dean?" came Giles' voice, pointedly ignoring the jab. "Are you with Buffy or Faith? Or-Or do you know where they are?"

"I'm here," said Buffy.

"I called the Watcher's Retreat. Thought it best to let Faith's Watcher know she was here. Buffy, the woman is dead."

The girl and her brother both shot to their feet. "What? How?"

"Kakistos. He… Well, there's no reason to get into details. Suffice to say Faith is the reason why the vampire is here."

Sam's name began flashing on the phone. "Hold up, Jeeves," said Dean, "I'll call you back."

A breathless Sam answered from the other side. "Dean! Kakistos! Came to Faith's room."

Buffy shed her robe, heedless of the squawk from her brother, and hurriedly pulled on clothes. "Where?" she demanded.

"Warehouse district! _Shit_ —" The phone let out several heavy thumps before cutting completely.

Seeing that Dean had his eyes covered with one hand, Buffy yanked on his arm. "Let's go."

"Next time wait 'til I'm out of the room!" complained her brother as he hurried after her.

* * *

The Impala roared down the warehouse district road with Dean doing his best to simultaneously search and drive safely while Buffy kept calling and texting their brother. It was difficult to determine which building Sam and Faith were holed up in as some of the warehouses were lit due to being used for their designated purpose and others were desolate shells. Without actually being able to see the insides there was no telling who their occupants were.

"Stop!" Buffy cried.

Dean slammed on the brakes. His sister pointed to one of the nondescript buildings in front of them. "There."

"Slayer sense?"

"Kinda." She lifted her phone so he could see the window that had popped up. "How many abandoned places have wifi?"

After muttering, "Dumbass vamps," at seeing the server name ("BlckVampNum1"), Dean moved the Impala to a nearby parking lot and turned off the engine. He popped the trunk and tossed his sister a bottle of holy water. A few stakes and a crossbow finished his personal arsenal. "We good?"

"All good," Buffy replied as the lid slammed shut.

* * *

Sam and Faith, however, were not good.

Kakistos' cronies, a motley crew of varying ages and seedy origins united under a black vampire wearing a tailored suit, drove the two neatly into the ancient creature's abode. The once abandoned warehouse was now littered with bodies, the most recent bearing the hat and uniform of a local pizzeria. Sam jerked the gaping Faith away from the sight and into a small office. He did his best to barricade the door as the creatures strode inside.

The ancient vampire gave a derisive chortle. "I can _smell_ you, Slayer. You and that abomination."

Puzzled at the latter designation, Faith looked at Sam. He shook his head and mouthed, _Later._

"Come out now," Kakistos continued, "and I will make his death brief. Do not and he shall join you in endless torment."

"Go screw yourself!" shouted Sam.

Before the vampire could respond, a twang echoed through the chamber. A moment later, one of the indistinguishable flunkies collapsed into ash. "How about option C?" Buffy quipped as Dean loaded another bolt. "We dust all of you and walk away?"

With a roar, Kakistos lunged at the blonde Slayer. She sidestepped neatly and tossed holy water at his face as Dean fired off another shot. The hunter deliberately stepped on the desiccated debris, stake in hand, and jammed it into the heart of a second vampire.

"Dean!" Sam shouted as he and Faith edged into the fray. His brother tossed the two of them spare stakes before wading back into the melee.

Between the four of them, the vampires were swiftly defeated one after the other. The exception was the suited man who jerked his lapels in place and sauntered for the exit. "The _smart_ vampire knows when it's time to cut and run," he said to the few others who'd chosen to follow him.

Shortly all that remained was Kakistos, the two hunters, and the two Slayers. The humans circled the ancient monster, weapons in hand. Worriedly, a female vampire looked at her swarthy counterpart and asked, "Trick?"

"If we don't do something, the Master could get killed," he replied with affected concern. Then, nonchalant, Trick added, "Well, our prayers are with him," and led his cohorts away.

Buffy led the charge, stake first, and was casually batted away. Sam came from behind and wrapped an arm around the thing's neck allowing Dean to plunge a stake into its heart. Kakistos merely laughed before wrenching off the grip of the taller hunter and throwing him into his brother.

The vampire set his sights on Faith. She froze, fear writ large in her expression. Kakistos reached out, grinning maliciously, and lifted the Slayer by her throat. "Do you remember how long it took before your Watcher begged for death? How long will you last, I wonder?"

A bullet ricocheted off of the vampire's skull. Several more followed. Irritated, Kakistos turned to confront the source, Faith still in his grasp, only to have a small blonde figure bring a knife-hand down on his arm. He dropped the Slayer, roaring angrily, and backhanded Buffy into a support beam. The wood cracked, a large, jagged portion falling to the floor.

"Well, that did fuck-all," Dean grumbled as Kakistos turned his attention to Buffy's brothers. The vampire stomped towards them then stopped, gagging, a black mist drifting from his mouth.

The others stared at Sam, his hand outstretched towards the creature, a look of intense concentration on his face. Unlike what Dean had witnessed in the warehouse, however, Kakistos wasn't buckling. Instead, the mist seeped in and out of the thing's orifices as if battling the desire to stay or leave its host.

As the seconds ticked by, blood slithered down one of Sam's nostrils. The expression on his face began to reflect pain as well as determination. Buffy cried his name, desperately hoping to stop her brother before whatever it was he was doing hurt him further. He ignored her and his other nostril began to bleed.

Abruptly, an enormous, spiky rectangle of wood blossomed out of Kakistos' chest. The vampire gave one astonished glance towards his vanquisher before collapsing into a pile of dust.

Faith dropped the broken beam with a clatter into the detritus. Bruised, but relieved, she and Buffy looked at one another. "You hungry?" wondered the blonde Slayer.

"Starved," Faith replied. The two girls companionably headed for the exit.

"You okay?" Dean asked Sam.

"Yeah," he mumbled, one sleeve swiping away at his clotting nosebleed, "I'll be fine."

Dean gave him a skeptical look as his sister called, "C'mon! Slayers hungry. Slayers cranky!"

"Keep your pants on!" Dean yelled. He checked one more time on his brother before stuffing his firearm into the back of his jeans.

As Dean headed for the car (muttering under his breath about impatient midgets), Sam shook his head clear of the last of the dizziness. It wouldn't have been so bad if he'd had… well, no use complaining about it after the fact. Soon as he was free of disapproving eyes he could contact Ruby and solve the dilemma.

* * *

The following day was Saturday, which meant that Joyce wasn't bothered by her daughter's overly late proclivities. A nearby diner, open twenty-four hours, provided the four with some early morning sustenance. While Dean had a slice of pie and Sam a cup of chicken noodle soup, the girls each ate through a plate of pancakes, a burger, a pile of fries, and a milkshake. They compared battle notes as Buffy's brothers merely gawked at the ensuing carnage.

Feeling generous, Buffy offered Faith an extended stay at "Resort Summers" (aka her home's spare bedroom) which the other Slayer declined. "Don't think your mom would like my boyfriends, B," she explained. Shortly thereafter, Faith groaned that she was finally stuffed, propositioned Buffy's brothers again, and, upon receiving one reluctant and one vehement declination, left the diner for her motel.

Now left by themselves, the siblings could address another issue. Or, at least, it was a prime opportunity to do so, but none of them wanted to broach the subject first. Finally sick of the tension, Sam said, "Okay. Go ahead. Say it."

"Say what?" asked Dean.

"Say that I'm… I'm inhuman. I'm a demon. I'm some kind of _freak_."

"Welcome to the club," Buffy mumbled as she took a sip of water.

Dean sighed and wiped a hand down his face. "Look, man. This shit's just… weird, okay? And look what it did to you! Just trying it on sick-tacos—"

"Kakistos," muttered Sam.

"Whatever. You sprung a freaking leak."

"Don't try to say it didn't hurt," Buffy admonished.

"It-It did," admitted her younger brother. "But that's only because I'm out of… out of practice! If the two of you would get off my back and get off of _Ruby's_ back then maybe I could get better at it."

"I don't trust the bitch," Dean stated firmly.

"Neither do I," Buffy agreed. "Sam, she's a demon."

"And Angel's a vampire," countered Sam. "You both think she's going to go full out evil on me when we sleep in a house with a monster in the next bedroom over!"

"That ain't the same!" Dean said angrily. "We know what makes Angel a dick, what we don't know is why Ruby is trying so hard to get _you_ to be one."

"So what you're saying is that as long as Buffy doesn't screw her boyfriend again, we're all good, is that it?"

Immediately, Buffy grabbed her cup and threw its contents into her brother's face. The few other patrons in the diner quieted, abandoning the pretense that they couldn't hear how the siblings' conversation was turning loud and combative, and watched as the Slayer lurched to her feet and stomped into the bathroom.

"What the fuck, Sam?" Dean hissed as soon as the customers had turned their attention back to their meals.

Sam buried his face in his hands. "It just slipped out. It's just…" He sighed as he wiped his face dry. "I'm already getting tired of defending myself to you guys."

Dean shrugged, unwilling to concede to Sam's desire not to be vilified. Instead he excused himself and headed for the register to pay for the mountain of food that had been consumed. In the meantime, Buffy exited the bathroom and went straight for the Impala.

Sam hurried after her. "Buffy, I'm so sorry."

His sister braced her hands on the car and kept her face turned away. "It's just," Sam continued, "I wish the two of you could see that I'm stuck with this! The least I can do is try to make something good out of what Azazel did to me."

"I know," she said quietly. "And… And loving Angel is like playing with fire, you know? But I can't help it. And I'm starting to think that you can't either."

Relief flooded through her brother; at least _someone_ was starting to see his side. The feeling washed away when Buffy turned to him, her face suffused with disappointment, and said, "The thing is… you lied to me for months. You got so wrapped up in your own little world that you didn't see that I was in pain, too. We both lost a brother, Sam, and I thought I'd _killed_ the man I loved." She jerked open the back door. "You're selfish and stupid and sometimes I wish that Dean had never made his deal."

Sam jumped when Buffy sat and slammed the door. He walked slowly over to the front passenger side and sat gingerly down in his seat. They were quiet until Dean joined them a few minutes later. The eldest brother glanced from one emotionally compromised sibling to the other and wondered, "What the hell is going on now?"

"Nothing," Buffy mumbled. Sam repeated the sentiment.

"Yeah, okay." Dean revved the Impala's engine. As he reversed the car, he muttered, "Swear to God you both act like freaking girls."

* * *

Buffy had just snuggled into her bed when, with the sound of flapping wings, an angel suddenly appeared. Reflexively she shrieked and threw the nearest object at hand towards his head.

"What is it?" Joyce called as she hurried in from the hallway. She blinked at the intruder holding her daughter's pillow a few inches in front of his own face. "Castiel?"

"I need to speak to your daughter," he said as he lowered his arms. "Alone."

Joyce folded her arms and frowned; matronly protectiveness had temporarily wiped away any lingering trepidation she'd had. "And why should I allow that?"

"Don't!" Buffy cried when the angel raised two fingers towards her mother's head. As Joyce stared warily at the frozen digits, the Slayer said, "It's okay, mom. I'll be fine."

"You sure?"

Buffy peered at Castiel. "You're not planning on zapping me to, like, where my mom and dad are smooching or something, right?"

"No," he stated.

Shaking her head, Joyce sighed, "All right," before heading back downstairs and considering the weirdness that was apparently now going to be part and parcel of her life.

Irritated by both the intrusion and the lack of sleep, Buffy snapped, "Okay, what?"

"You need to keep watch over Faith Lehane."

"Why? And give me my pillow back."

"She is the Slayer potential that Azazel sought to activate," said Castiel as he approached the bed. "We do not know why."

Buffy shifted uncomfortably away as the angel leaned far too close for comfort to put her pillow _exactly_ where it had been before. He smelled interesting, like some sort of light soap but without the normal tinge of personal body odor that most people manifested. It wasn't unpleasant, but it was definitely high on the strange.

After he'd stepped back, Buffy took a moment to think. "What dad said, about banana-eyes and his long term plan… You're saying that was about Faith?"

"Yes." Castiel appeared to wrestle with some inner dilemma before telling her, "Some among us thought it might be best if the next Slayer was Called."

Indignant, Buffy flipped over her comforter and stood. " _Excuse_ me?" she said furiously as she stalked towards the angel. "What is wrong with you guys? I thought you were supposed to be, like, fluttery happy good guys with naked butts and harps, not murder-happy jerks!"

"I overruled their decision."

Sardonically, the Slayer exclaimed, "Well, thanks so much for that!" She poked him in the chest. "i swear, any of you even try to do something to Faith—"

"There is nothing you could do if that is the path we choose," Castiel growled as he loomed over the diminutive blonde. "What can a mere human, even one endowed with the powers of the Slayer, do against the might of Heaven?"

Buffy glowered right back, her arms folded. " _Try me._ "

The two were stuck in a silent battle of wills when Joyce stuck her head back in the room to check on their situation. "Are we okay?"

"Fine, mom," Buffy replied, her green eyes still locked with the angel's blue ones.

Her mother sighed and shook her head. "If you say so," she said resignedly and left the two of them to do whatever it was they'd been doing.

Castiel frowned pensively. "Even your brother feared what I might do to him. Why do you not?"

The teenager huffed a laugh. "Have you seen the crap I've been through?"

"Your brother went to Hell."

"Big whoop. Another chapter in the Winchester-Summers saga."

The angel tilted his head slightly over to one side. "I don't understand your way of thinking."

"Join the club." When Castiel gave a slight shrug and turned away (apparently abandoning his attempt to psychologically profile the enigma that was Buffy), the girl cried, "Wait! Why did you decide to spare Faith?"

After a moment, the angel turned his head. Rather than respond, however, he flew away, leaving one very frustrated and bewildered Slayer to contemplate what to do about this new dilemma.

* * *

"That's it?" Dean asked incredulously.

"That's it," Buffy replied firmly.

After a few hours' sleep, the Slayer felt sanity reassert itself. She'd immediately called her brothers to relate Castiel's ambiguous warning and they decided to meet up in front of the Summers' home to discuss the issue.

Sam was still wary around his sister, but the matter allowed them to put their caustic relationship aside. "Maybe we should stay."

"You guys are going?" Buffy wondered, disappointed with this revelation.

"Another hunter asked us for some help," Dean told her. "Old friend of dad's out in Missouri."

His sister sighed. "Then you should go. Long as while you're out there you don't go and make another crossroads deal or start making more demon BFFs or _dying_ or—"

"Okay, okay! We got the point. Jesus."

"What about Faith?" asked Sam.

"I can deal," Buffy said. "'Sides, Giles is her Watcher now, too. He can, you know, do his Watcher thingy and… watch."

"Oh, by the way, here." Sam handed over a folded piece of paper.

When Buffy opened it she beheld a thickly drawn star encircled by flames. "Okay?"

Her younger brother cleared his throat nervously. "You, uh, and as many of your friends should get that tattooed. Joyce, too. It'll prevent any of you from getting possessed." He pulled down his shirt collar to display his own marking.

"Uh, sure."

"Just do it," Dean said as he reached out and gave his sister a hug. He released her and, after a moment's hesitation, Sam hugged her as well. "Keep in contact, all right?" cautioned the middle sibling.

Buffy nodded and stepped back. After another round of farewells, her brothers got into the Impala and roared off. Dean's hand briefly stuck out of the driver's side window to wave, a gesture that his sister mimicked enthusiastically.

Buffy looked down at the piece of paper and swallowed. The pain wasn't something she was afraid of; it was convincing her mother than getting the tattoo in the first place would be necessary. Her arm itched slightly at the point where Ethan Rayne had stuck Eyghon's sigil all those months ago.

Oh well. No time like the present. She jogged back to the front door and called, "Hey, mom…?"

* * *

 **Acknowledgement** : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episode, "Faith, Hope, and Trick" (BtVS 3.03).

 **Author's Note** : I figured that vampires, being part demon, would be susceptible to Sam's powers. Also, there really isn't anything to prove or disprove whether ancient vamps were bulletproof, but why not.


	44. Book III: Chapter 44

(7/2/2017) I realized while I was writing this chapter that it's been a long time since I wrote this kind of chapter. I'm rusty.

Thank you **RHatch89** , **thedarkpokemaster** , **IoSolUno** , **Sage of Wind Dragons** , **missmeow1968** , and **philly cheese dude** for the reviews! And all you favoriters and followers get kittens!

* * *

( _Text conversation between Dean Winchester and Buffy Summers_ )

DEAN: Hey

BUFFY: Hey hey

DEAN: Listen Sam decided he's not using his powers anymore

BUFFY: Really

DEAN: Had a whole thing with a rugaru. Cannibal monster. Guess it changed his mind. So maybe give him some slack?

BUFFY: I'll think about it

DEAN: When are you two going to talk about what happened while I was gone

BUFFY: Why should we? He knows what he did

DEAN: Yeah but I don't

BUFFY: Then ask him

DEAN: Already did and he's not talking

BUFFY: I'll think about it

DEAN: Don't strain yourself

BUFFY: Butthead

DEAN: Midget. Hey, did you guys get your tattoos

BUFFY: Yes

DEAN: Prove it

BUFFY: ( _picture between her shoulder blades with anti-possession tattoo_ ) Happy?

DEAN: What about the rest of you?

BUFFY: ( _picture of Joyce's ankle_ )

BUFFY: ( _picture of middle of Willow's back_ ) Only place she figured her mom wouldn't notice

BUFFY: ( _picture of Cordelia's right shoulder blade_ )

BUFFY: ( _picture of Giles' arm_ )

BUFFY: ( _picture of Xander's left buttocks_ )

DEAN: OH FOR FUCK'S SAKE

* * *

DATE: October 12, 2007TO: (undisclosed recipients)FROM: TrickyBlackVampSUBJECT: Slayerfest '07!

To all you fellow homicidal maniacs,

WELCOME TO SLAYERFEST 2007! As you may or may not know, due to unnatural circumstances there are now two, count'em, TWO Slayers now in existence. Well this just isn't how the world is supposed to go. With great enthusiasm I now ask you and yours to join me in the hunt of a lifetime!

Now this ain't a normal event. This here requires a buy-in of no less than $50,000 in dollars, gold, or jewels (no foreign currency, please). Whosoever eliminates both our little Slayer girls will win THE ENTIRE POT of money, so the more participants the better! Those who kill one with only receive half.

Again, I welcome you to join us in SLAYERFEST '07 right here on Hellmouth central, Sunnydale, CA. Please reply to this email with your confirmation no later than October 16.

TRICK

* * *

( _Poster on varying locations within Sunnydale High School_ )

SUNNYDALE HIGH SCHOOL HOMECOMING DANCE

DATE: October 19, 2007LOCATION: The Bronze

 **Cast your vote for Homecoming King and Queen!**

QUEEN CANDIDATES:Michelle BlakeHolly CharlestonCordelia ChaseBuffy Summers

KING CANDIDATES:Larry BlaisdellLance BrooksMitch FargoJonathan Levinson

 **GO RAZORBACKS!**

* * *

( _Excerpt from Rupert Giles' Watcher diairies_ )

…Buffy having family who are hunters has been a trial, to say the least. Compounding this is the fact that Heaven and Hell have evidently taken a heavy interest in both men. Their investiture is so great that the eldest was rescued from the Pit in order to complete some enigmatic duty.

I grow more and more apprehensive regarding these angels. We have known for centuries what demons are capable of and what the consequences are of dealing with them. These angels are a conundrum, one that I worry we shall never understand. I just hope we may unravel some of their way of thinking so that they may call us allies and not enemies.

Yesterday, Buffy's younger brother emailed to inform me regarding the ancient demon, Samhain. Apparently the thing rose and terrified a small town at the behest of a pair of witches. I am uncertain what I find more disturbing: the rising of Samhain being one of the seals on Lucifer's Cage or the fact that the angels wanted to preemptively obliterate the population in order to keep the seal from being broken. Is this how they do things? Are they so nonchalant regarding human life that they would sacrifice a thousand for the mere _chance_ of success? Is all the mythology regarding angels wrong?

Speaking of Samhain, there are some interesting pieces of lore that were brought to my attention. For instance…

* * *

 **Conner Beverly Behavioral Medicine Center**

PSYCHIATRIC ADMITTANCE FORM

PATIENT NAME: Anna MiltonDOB: 12/12/1985GUARDIAN(S): Richard and Amy Milton

DATE OF ADMISSION: 11/5/2007MODE OF ADMITTANCE: Transfer from Corrections Center of NW Ohio

ADMITTANCE DIAGNOSES: Late onset schizophrenia

REASONS FOR ADMISSION:

The patient was incarcerated following an altercation with four male adults. The patient refused to calm herself after claiming that "Lucifer's arrival" was imminent. The patient claims to hear angels speak. The patient has mentioned the names Sam and Dean, antagonist and protagonist respectively. Follow up interviews with guardians regarding past relationships must be conducted.

HISTORY:

Childhood incident at approximately 7 years old. The patient believed her father was false and that her true father was inclined towards filicide. Follow up interview regarding mother infidelity must be conducted.

Father is a church deacon. Occupation may have spawned current obsession with demons and angels.

PROCEDURES AND TREATMENT: Individual therapy. Psychopharmacologic management.

NOTE: Patient is not to be allowed free access to the grounds until it has been verified that she no longer represents a threat to herself or others.

* * *

 _November 2007_

* * *

( _Text conversation between Buffy Summers and Jo Harvelle_ )

BUFFY: Jo!!!

JO: Buffy!!!! Long time no text! What is going on, girlfriend?

BUFFY: The usual. Apocalypse, vampires, demons, werewolves

JO: Sounds like heaven

BUFFY: Dunno. The angel won't tell us

JO: We talking about Angelus Angel?

BUFFY: No, an actual angel

JO: Wait what

BUFFY: His name is Castiel. We call him Cass. He wears a suit and a coat

JO: You have got to send me a picture as soon as you can

BUFFY: Next time he randomly drops into my bedroom I'll do that

JO: Do I want to know?

BUFFY: Meh, not important. I wanted to ask: have you ever held a really really really important secret?

JO: Not really. I mean, maybe I tried a smoke or two back in high school but that's it

BUFFY: Oh

JO: Now you need to spill

BUFFY: Angel, the actual Angel, came back from Hell and I haven't told anyone

JO: And what about his soul?

BUFFY: Clean as a whistle. Which doesn't make much sense because whistles have got to be dirty

JO: Yeah well not like he's bad or anything now but I think I'll be staying away from Sunnydale for a while

BUFFY: Totally understand. But I don't know what to do

JO: Hey remember how flipped your mom got about the Slayer thing? Longer you hold this back worse it's going to be

BUFFY: I know, I know. If everyone disowns me again can I come live with you?

JO: Your makeup smeared pillowcase will be waiting for you!

BUFFY: Thanks Jo! And if you see Sam or Dean tell them I said hi

JO: DEAN'S ALIVE? ? ? ? ? ?

* * *

( _Phone call from Dean Winchester to Buffy Summers_ )

DEAN: ( _slurred_ ) Hey, baby. What're you wearing?

BUFFY: What?

DEAN: You still got that lacy thing? 'Cuz I'm in the neighborhood and—

BUFFY: Dean! This is _Buffy_. Your _sister_.

DEAN: ( _thumps and scrapes_ ) Oh, shit. Shit shit shit. Meant to call Bunny.

BUFFY: You know someone named Bunny?

DEAN: Stripper. Dunno if that was her real name. ( _repeated swallowing_ )

BUFFY: Are you… Are you drunk? Are you drinking booze while you're on the phone?

DEAN: Yup!

BUFFY: Well don't drunk dial me!

DEAN: ( _blows raspberry_ ) You're bossy. And short. Hey, did you know on Thursdays I'm a teddy bear doctor?

BUFFY: What?

DEAN: You know, teddy bears! Big, glassy eyed fucks, all depressed and shit.

BUFFY: Again… what?

SAM: ( _in the background_ ) Dean, what're you… Give me that.

DEAN: No! Mine! ( _sounds of a scuffle, glass breaking_ ) Hey! You're going out and getting me another bottle, dickhead.

SAM: ( _exasperated sigh_ ) Yeah, yeah. ( _into the phone_ ) Buff', we're coming into town for Thanksgiving if that's okay. We're up in Washington and it'll be a quick ride down.

BUFFY: Sure. We'll make with the family food comas. Can you make sure Dean doesn't pickle his liver before you guys get here?

SAM: I'll try. ( _to Dean_ ) Dude! What're you—

DEAN: ( _several thumps, then speaking loudly into the phone_ ) I remember Hell. Uriel's a dick and told on me.

BUFFY: Who's Uriel? And wait, what?

DEAN: Hell! I remember it. Every single bit. But I'm not tellin'. And now Sam keeps giving me puppy dog eyes. I don't like dogs. Stinky.

BUFFY: Dean…

DEAN: ( _singsong tone_ ) See you for tur-key. ( _call ends_ )

* * *

 **Author's Note** : There's no list that I could find of the actual Homecoming King nominees. Just borrowed some names from the wiki. Also thought Jonathan being nominated would be something a little high school dick would do.


	45. Book III: Chapter 45

(8/28/2017) Hooray this took forever! Sorry about that. Former promotion was a fiasco, changed jobs completely to something completely awesome, and I'm not quite satisfied with how this chapter turned out. Good news is the next chapter is already in the works! Probably be up in less than a week.

The Buffy stuff is slightly out of order. Because.

Thank you **thedarkpokemaster** , **RHatch89** , **jkmp28** , the mystery guest **Sage** , and **demon 19027** for the preliminary reviews! And all you favoriters and followers get shiny gold stickers!

* * *

Sam and Dean arrived early Thursday morning and, in order to facilitate the continued deception that Angel was still in Hell, took residence in the Summers' guest room. They each fell into their respective beds to sleep off the ride but were wakened a few short hours later by the delicious smells wafting from down below.

They had a wonderful, incongruently normal, Thanksgiving dinner. The turkey was moist and filled with bread and cranberry stuffing. Biscuits and mashed potatoes were piled high. Gravy was poured on nearly everything. Buffy and Dean even partook of the green beans after a good deal of cajoling from both Joyce and Sam. Pumpkin and apple pie was had by all, with very little left over after Dean had gotten to the remainder. All in all the dinner was a merry family affair with thoughts of Heaven and Hell far from everyone's minds.

On Friday over breakfast, however, there was Sunnydale business to be taken care of. Buffy let her brothers know that the previous Tuesday night had seen the arrival of Gwendolyn Post, a woman that had ostensibly arrived to replace Faith's murdered Watcher. She'd turned out to be a fraud, having been debarred some months earlier from the Watcher's Council for practicing dark magic. Her goal had been the Glove of Myhnegon, a powerful artifact that could generate its own lightning. It had ultimately been the instrument of her downfall.

There were two issues that Buffy needed help addressing after the incident. The first was that the secret of Angel's return from Hell was out (making their cramped sleeping arrangements an unneeded farce) and her friends and Watcher were still furious with her. In her opinion, Dean was the best person to confront the others about the subject.

"Huh?" he asked confusedly. "Why me?"

"Because you know what happens to people in Hell?" Buffy replied. "Maybe you could, I dunno…"

"Get them to be sympathetic?" Sam offered.

"Yeah! That!"

Dean peered at the two of them suspiciously. "Is this some kinda trick to get me to talk about it?"

"No," Buffy said, a little too innocently.

Her eldest brother made a noncommittal noise, which was the most his siblings figured they would get for now, and asked what the second issue was. Apparently it was Faith.

Faith's final word regarding the false Watcher, a woman with whom she had apparently formed a bond, had been to rue the moment she'd allowed herself to trust Gwendolyn Post; to trust anyone for that matter. The girl had rebuffed any attempts to console her about the subject and had, so far, managed to completely avoid Buffy and any of her friends. Faith had even managed to check in with Giles without tipping off his other Slayer to her presence.

Worried, Buffy pleaded with her brothers to at least _try_ to talk with Faith. The youngest sibling reminded them of the tragedy that had brought the second Slayer to Sunnydale in the first place and the fragile pretense Faith had erected to protect herself from the trauma. As far as Buffy was concerned, seeing as how her counterpart lacked any known parental figures, Faith's Sunnydale associates made up the entirety of her support system.

"I'm worried what she might do," Buffy said quietly.

"Why?" asked Sam.

"Because I've watched how the two of you react to bad things and I don't want to see her drink and screw herself to death!"

Sam grimaced and Dean frowned, both recalling the vices that they'd fallen to in their respective melancholies. Then the latter smirked. "At least the second way wouldn't be a bad way to go."

Buffy reached over the table and smacked him on the arm. "I'm serious!"

"Ow! Fine, fine!"

The rest of the weekend was spent on one or the other of the tasks that had been laid before them. Dean had the relatively easier task. He went straight for Giles rather than bother with the teenagers and impressed upon the Watcher the horrors of Hell. Whatever transgressions Angel had committed with a blackened soul had been paid back with interest in the Pit and made their resentment seem rather petulant.

In a moment of pettiness, Giles pushed for details. He was taken aback at being suddenly shouted at by an incensed, and heavily armed, hunter. As soon as Dean had slammed his front door (nearly rattling his windows from their frames), the Watcher called his Slayer to ask if she had any insights as to her brother's disturbing behavior. She clumsily evaded his probing and Giles decided to let it be for the time being.

Sam, however, had no success whatsoever. Faith stubbornly refused to answer calls or texts. She even deigned to answer her door even though the television audibly clicked off as soon as he began knocking. When he began to pick the lock, there was a loud _thunk_. He stepped back after finding two inches of serrated steel poking out from the wood near his fingers.

The three unanimously decided to give Faith a day or two more to sulk before trying again. Buffy's brothers weren't too thrilled to be stationary while they still had very little to go on regarding Lilith and the seals, but when she came home Monday after school with a box of chocolate bars as a bribe Dean capitulated.

* * *

Tuesday afternoon found a completely baffled Buffy sitting on the curb outside of school with her similarly baffled friends.

"First Ms. Barton," Xander murmured, "and then Mr. Park."

"I don't think I've ever seen a gym teacher that happy to play dodgeball," Oz added. "Like, actually on the floor _playing_ dodgeball."

"My tummy still hurts," Willow said piteously as she rubbed the offending area. Her boyfriend gave her a comforting squeeze.

"You think that's bad?" Buffy asked. "I heard Ms. Bennett _giggle_ because the textbook said 'Tricky Dick.' That's not even that funny."

Xander's snicker gave lie to Buffy's assertion. She threw him a withering look, then began to wonder, "Where's Dean? He said he was going to pick me up after—"

Her query went answered a moment later when the Impala came screeching around the corner and into the parking lot, did a donut on the pavement, then drifted to a stop a mere three feet away from where Buffy and her friends had scrambled to their feet. Dean promptly hopped out of his seat and onto the windowsill to bark, "Yo!"

When all he got were varying degrees of silent astonishment, he threw out his hands (dropping a candy wrapper out of one of them) and said, "What?"

"Dean," Sam whined quietly from the passenger side. "Come on, lets go."

Concerned, Willow peered into the car to gently inquire, "Sam? You okay?"

"Fine," he muttered. The hunter took a sullen bite of chocolate and stared down at his feet.

Buffy shrugged and opened the back door. "Can we go to Giles' apartment? He didn't show up today. Kinda worried."

"The old fart can take care of himself," Dean scoffed as he slid back inside the car.

Sam gave his brother an especially irritated glance before beginning to unwrap another candy bar. Frowning, Buffy asked, "You guys are going to give me money for all the extra ones you're eating, right?"

"Of course!" Sam cried indignantly.

Dean merely snorted before gunning the gas pedal and squealing out of the parking lot as loudly as he could.

Oz, Willow, and Xander all stared at the departing Impala. They winced as Buffy's screams drifted out from the open windows. As it vanished around a corner, Cordelia approached and peered down the road. "Was that Dean's car?"

"Yup," Xander answered.

"He's going to get a ticket or something," Willow said worriedly.

"Don't think so," Cordelia refuted. "Look."

The group of friends gazed in the proffered direction. There, under a shady tree, sat two uniformed policemen, their patrol car parked partially on the sidewalk, nonchalantly munching on chocolate. As the teenagers watched, the two entered some sort of disagreement, pointing upwards at a squirrel munching an acorn. When one stood, pulled his pistol, and directed it at the unsuspecting rodent, Willow immediately said, "Time to go!"

The four fled, along with the few remaining students, as the pair of law enforcement officials entered a spontaneous sharpshooter contest.

* * *

When an ecstatic Buffy came pelting out of Giles' flat, her mother's keyring in hand, her brothers gave each other startled glances and leapt from the car. Before their sister could unlock the SUV, Sam snatched the keys while Dean demanded, "Are you mental?"

"Mom said I could drive!" Buffy replied, exultant. "Sam, Gimme!" She jumped up and down in a futile effort to reclaim her prize from her much taller sibling.

"You don't know how to drive," Sam scolded. "It's too dangerous. I'm giving these back to your mom."

"'Too dangerous'?" his sister repeated incredulously. "This coming from the guy who was touting the goodness of demons the last time I saw him?"

Buffy was dumbfounded when her younger brother appeared to choke back _tears_ , his head bowed and his face turned to one side. "Still not giving these back," Sam mumbled as he pocketed the keys.

"Oh for—" Buffy threw her hands out and let them drop. "Fine! At least let's go pick up Willow."

"What for?" Dean demanded sullenly.

"We need to study."

* * *

After another harrowing trip through the streets (during which a terrified Willow reconsidered taking up her grandfather's faith), Buffy decided that they needed to destress before diving into their math homework. An hour or two at The Bronze couldn't hurt in her opinion. Dean eagerly clarified that he was old enough to buy his own beer and agreed to the diversion.

Only when they got there, the floor was filled with _old people_. A highly perplexed Oz was on stage with his band playing for an abnormally appreciative audience while Willow's physician and Buffy's elderly science teacher cavorted next to the guitarist like…

"Us," Buffy declared after observing the spectacle for several minutes. "They're acting like a bunch of us."

"I don't act like this," Willow replied confusedly.

"No, you act like that," Buffy retorted as she pointed behind her friend.

Willow swiveled around and beheld a hunched over Sam, his face in a mug of beer and one leg quivering with annoyed boredom, looking around the room with undisguised dismay. He glanced over at his sister pleadingly just as an drunken, half-dressed man collided into his back. Even more discomfiting was the sight of Principal Snyder, currently sitting across from Buffy's now beer moistened brother, pointing at Sam and gleefully chortling at the incident.

"Ha-ha!" Snyder crowed. "Loser!"

Willow and Sam's faces reflected the same disconcerted expression at the scene. At seeing her comment validated, Buffy allowed herself a moment of smug satisfaction. The feeling fell apart when she caught sight of her other brother feeling up some woman on the couch underneath the stairs. Brunette locks spilled out to the floor near his head and a shapely leg was gripping his back.

"Oh, for God's sake!" Buffy cried. She stomped over and yanked Dean up off of his paramour by the back of his coat. Over his protestations, she gasped out, " _Miss Franks?_ "

Buffy's attractive, middle-aged math teacher sat up and patted her disheveled hair. She paid no attention to her confounded student; instead, she licked her lips lasciviously at Dean.

"Ugh, gross," Buffy groaned as she gripped Dean's wrist and pulled her now sexually frustrated brother away. On the way to the exit, her other hand snaked out and snatched Sam's collar. The Slayer weaved her way through a knot of high spirited grandparents, a pair of men who appeared to be fighting over a bored looking woman, and several more pairs of adults giving in to their libidos. A perturbed Willow followed.

Oz slipped through the door after his girlfriend and nearly shut it on Snyder's arm. "Hey!" whined the principal. "You guys aren't trying to ditch me, are ya?"

Buffy dropped one gloomy and one indignant brother on the pavement and whirled around to face her friends. "We should go back to Giles. He should know what to do."

"You ain't my mom," Dean grumbled as he picked himself up. "I don't got to do what you say."

The eldest of the siblings stepped back when his significantly smaller sister brandished a fist in his face. "You _really_ want to try arguing with me right now?"

Dean glowered down at Buffy for a few moments. "Bitch."

It took all of Buffy's restraint not to plant her knuckles into her big brother's nose. Willow placed a cautious hand on her friend's shoulder. "It'll be okay when we can get to Giles'."

"Of course," Oz added soothingly. "I mean, even if he's sixteen, he's still Giles, right? He's probably a pretty together guy." When his girlfriend murmured something doubtful, he asked, "What?"

"Giles at sixteen?" Buffy clarified. "Less Together Guy, more Bad Magic Hates the World Ticking Time Bomb Guy."

"He was a witch?" Dean asked, disgusted.

After rolling her eyes Buffy ignored the query. "Let's go. I need you to drive."

"My Baby ain't a taxi!"

"Your 'Baby' is going to get keyed if you don't get your butt in the driver's seat and take us to my Watcher and my mother!"

"Bitch," Dean repeated and headed for the Impala. Sam followed afterwards walking awkwardly with his hands in his pockets. Before entering the car he nearly fell, his feet tangling with one another, much to his brother's amusement.

"I'm too tall," Sam whined. "My feet are too big."

"Well, you know what they say about dudes with big feet."

Beyond disgusted at this point, Buffy shoved Sam into the front seat and slid in afterwards. Willow and Oz clambered into the back with Snyder incongruently smashing himself in along with them. "Where we goin'?" he asked excitedly.

"Get the dork out," Dean demanded.

"No time!" Buffy objected. "Go!"

Grumbling, Dean revved the accelerator a few times before releasing the brake and squealing off. "Whoa, Winchester!" Snyder cried. "You drive like a spazz."

* * *

Giles' was empty, but the streets were not. It was past sunset and people, all of them well into their twenties, thirties, and beyond, were engaging in activities that fit neither the hour or their age. A group of men were standing in a clutch under a tree catcalling every woman that walked by. Several others had taken up the swings and appeared to be recklessly competing over who could go the highest. More than one pair were romantically entwined in various exposed places.

They abandoned the Impala after watching the wreck that occurred after an impromptu drag race. Dean and Snyder had howled and guffawed at the results while Willow, Oz, and Sam wore similarly appalled expressions. Buffy merely sighed. Thankfully both drivers walked away with nothing more than a few scrapes but no one (particularly Dean) wanted to risk the Impala becoming the victim of a similar incident.

After spotting the chocolate bars being liberally consumed by both the strangers and the three adults accompanying them, Willow and Buffy came to the same conclusion: the candy itself must be cursed. Through some not so gentle coaxing Snyder revealed that the candy was being distributed out of a company a mile or so away.

A half hour's brisk walk later found them arriving at the shipping and receiving area. They found it clogged with adults clamoring for more chocolate bars. The six of them marched towards the crowd, Buffy in the fore, to confront whoever was behind this nonsense.

Only after several steps the Slayer stopped. Dean, who was on her heels, came to a halt as well and was plowed into by Sam and Snyder. The three pseudo-adults thumped to the concrete as Buffy, incredulous, stared at a passionately entwined couple off to one side. "Mom? _Giles?_ "

"Go away," the disheveled Watcher mumbled into Joyce's lips. "We're busy."

Repulsed, Buffy pulled her mother out of Giles' embrace. "Hey!" cried Joyce.

The woman's daughter fingered the feathers that decorated her new sleeveless overcoat. "Where did you get that?" Buffy demanded. "Never mind. Listen to me—"

Giles interrupted the impending converse lecture by yanking his Slayer's arm and pointing viciously at her face. "Sod off!"

Buffy's rejoinder went unsaid as Dean promptly stepped into the fray and shoved Giles, hard. "Don't touch my sister, you British dick!"

The two grappled, much to the astonishment of the actual teenagers and the entertainment of the ensorcelled adults. Joyce yelled, "Kick his ass, Rupert!" much to the consternation of her daughter.

Dean was better trained and, warped candy notwithstanding, younger, but the fact that he was facing a human and not a monster had him holding back. A youthful Giles, however, had a propensity for dirty tactics and took the first opportunity that came to him to knee his opponent in the crotch.

The hunter bent over, a flurry of profanities erupting from his lips, as Giles stuck a cigarette in his mouth and declared, "And that's what you get, poncy little wanker."

Joyce let out a squeal of delight that became an alarmed shriek when Dean suddenly righted himself and planted his fist into Giles' gut. The Watcher bent over, retching, as the hunter snarled, "I've been to Hell, old man. You got nothing that'll put me down for long."

The standoff abruptly rose in potential violence when Giles pulled a gun out from behind his jeans (hidden, heretofore, by the flannel tied around his waist). Predictably, Dean followed suit with his usual ivory handled semi automatic. "Just give me an excuse," he growled.

Giles huffed out a wry chuckle. "Think you got the wrinklies to pull the trigger?"

"Oh. My. God." Buffy marched between the feuding pair, both of whom immediately pulled the barrels of their weapons into the air away from the girl. She faced Giles and held out her hand. "Give it."

"I am your Watcher and you do what I tell you," he snarled petulantly. "Its mine and I'm keeping it. Sod off!"

Finally fed up with the entire night, Buffy treated Giles to the same underhanded technique he'd used on Dean; she snapped her knee up between his legs. The gun clattered to the pavement as the Watcher folded down, groaning. Joyce rushed forward to comfort the man as Buffy snatched up the weapon, expertly relieved the item of its clip, and thrust the now unloaded gun at Sam.

"By the way," she said, "thanks a _lot_ for your non-help."

"You were fine," Sam mumbled. "Dean knew what to do. He _always_ knows what to do," he added virulently.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing."

"Okay, Mr. Liar Lyington."

"It's just—" Sam huffed out an exasperated sigh. "I didn't do anything 'cause I'm sick of being the stupid little kid that doesn't know enough and can't ever decide to do the right thing!"

"'Little'?" Buffy repeated incredulously.

"And… And I'm sick of being the freak. Why me, you know? I wish Azazel had just left me alone."

"It's not all bad," Willow said. She placed a hand on Sam's arm. "I mean, you got those super special demon yanking powers, right?"

"You mean the ones that my brother and sister hate me for?" he countered bitterly.

"Sam," Buffy said quietly. "I don't hate you."

"Yeah? Then how come you can't forgive me for the last summer?"

"That's different," she replied airily.

"Uh, Dean?" came Oz's voice. "Where are you going?"

Buffy and Sam snapped their gazes over to find their brother hoofing it to the dock. "To go look for the motherfucker that started all of this and show him what I learned in Hell," Dean called back.

The other two siblings glanced confusedly at each other. "'Learned in Hell'?" Buffy wondered.

Several gunshots rang out as Dean announced his presence to what turned out to be the warehouse's vampiric guards. "We better go before he shoots someone that isn't going to walk away afterwards," Buffy said, sighing.

* * *

They discovered an old antagonist, Ethan Rayne, behind the cursed candy, who had taken the assignment for monetary gain and the opportunity to spread chaos. Apparently the entire event had been orchestrated by the vampire, Trick, as a city-wide diversion. For what exact purpose the witch didn't know, only that it was to collect tribute for an Egyptian pagan god, Apep. As this tribute consisted of five human _newborns_ Ethan had been told to make the event as encompassing as possible.

Apep evidently enjoyed the sewage underneath the city and had been residing there for some time (Giles would later postulate that as the antithesis for good and light, the toxicity of the water as well as the proximity of the Hellmouth made for an attractive nesting spot). After dispatching Oz and Willow to the library in order to find Apep's weakness, the group headed for the hospital.

Unfortunately the babies had already been stolen by then, but the manhole across from the hospital yielded the desired results. In a rousing show of heroism, Buffy, her brothers, and Giles defeated the vampires; Joyce and Sam protected the infants; Dean torched Apep (Willow having found out that light was its Achilles' heel). Together they returned the babies to the maternity ward.

Sam mentioned quietly that he thought he'd seen an additional person slinking away as the fight was beginning. Figuring it for a vampire with the good sense not to tangle with the Slayer, no one considered the revelation worrisome.

Fortunately and unfortunately the morning saw all the adults returned to their normal states. Joyce was back to being her responsible, matronly self; Giles was back to being a stiff backed Watcher-librarian; and Snyder was back to his vitriolic ways. Dean had both his id and libido under control and Sam was no longer staring at his feet while he talked.

After being forced to scrub "KISS ROCKS" off of a set of lockers (a bit of vandalism to which Dean vehemently denied any involvement), Buffy joined her brothers at Angel's mansion to have a few drinks on the couches and commiserate over the previous day's events. For a bit it felt like old times, before Dean's sojourn into Hell, as Sam and Buffy ridiculed their big brother over his shenanigans and Dean gloated over his fistfight with Giles.

Bringing up that encounter shattered the veneer of normalcy that they had so tenuously wrapped about their conversation. "You said something," Buffy said suddenly. "You said you were going to show Ethan what you had 'learned in Hell.' What did that mean?"

An uncomfortable silence descended. Sam and Buffy looked expectantly at Dean as he quaffed the last of his beer. He put the bottle down and reached for another without speaking.

"Dean," Sam said quietly as his brother popped the cap. "If you don't want to talk about it—"

"Uh-uh!" Buffy interjected. She slammed her bottle of Coke onto the coffee table. "I'm sick of dealing with this macho suppression thingy. We are discussing this _now_."

"Oh, screw you, Buffy," Dean snarled. He stood up, fully intending on stomping out the front door, only to be yanked down back into his seat.

His sister leaned in, her preternatural strength nearly tearing his arm from its socket. " _Now,_ " she repeated.

Dean glared right back. "You first."

"Me first what huh?"

"You! Him!" The eldest sibling gestured between his younger counterparts. "I dunno, man. I've been watching the two of you be dicks to each other ever since I got back. It… It sucks!" Dean gave an exasperated sigh. Then, in a surprisingly wretched voice, he asked, "The hell happened between you two?"

Buffy and Sam stared at one another. The girl looked down, a pensive frown on her lips, as Sam wiped a hand down his face. "It's my fault," Sam finally uttered, reiterating what he'd told Joyce several months before. "It started after we left Sunnydale…"

* * *

 **Acknowledgement** : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episode, "Band Candy" (BtVS 3.06).

 **Author's Note** : "Apep" is apparently Egyptian god that was directly opposite of "Ra", the sun god, and was depicted in serpentine form. Figured that worked out pretty good for baby eating snake demon.


	46. Book III: Chapter 46

(9/7/2017) Texas is flooding, Florida is about to flood, and here I am in California roasting my booty off. Tell nature to spread some of that weather around instead of dumping it all in one place.

If you haven't read the entire chapter 45, head on back! It's up!

 **Note** : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episodes, "I Know What You Did Last Summer" (SPN 4.9) and "Heaven and Hell" (SPN 4.10).

Thank you **Sage of Wind Dragons** , **eivomlive** , and **Sal** the guest for the reviews! And all you favoriters and followers leave a word and get FIRE!

* * *

 _Five months ago…_

* * *

Buffy was approaching the end of her rope. She was tired of sitting in the car, tired of the same, skanky motels with their skanky beds, tired of her sorrow, just… tired. The fact that her remaining brother seemed determined to drown himself in liquor only exacerbated the issue. Slayer extraordinaire she might be, but lately all she'd felt like was a babysitter to a six and a half foot baby. It was definitely a downgrade from her previous position in life.

Ruby's home had been reduced to charred timbers and ashes by the gasoline-fueled fire. What little remained of Dean's body was commingled with the detritus. Before the authorities could fully comprehend that there were human victims of the blaze, Bobby called in a favor from a hunter named Rufus Turner who arrived the next day in full covert mode as a fire marshal. The middle aged black man barreled into the site without pause. He immediately shooed away the "small-town amateurs" who were, quite simply, "fucking up his investigation" and needed to leave. Now.

Once they were gone, Bobby snuck in and gathered as much as he could of Dean's remains. Afterwards, the siblings' adoptive uncle gave Rufus their thanks, to which the other hunter replied, "You're welcome. And don't you ever call on me again."

They met Bobby at a rest stop on I–5. The elder man flat out refused to open the box he'd preemptively nailed shut saying that neither Sam nor Buffy needed to see what was inside. An aimless road trip followed with Sam roaring down the highway, Bobby following as best he could, searching for the best place to put his brother's remains. After three days of fast food, sleeping in the car, and being generally unhygienic, Buffy put her foot down and demanded Sam decide on a location or she would find the first patch of dirt and bury _both_ of her brothers in a deep hole.

Sam picked a wooded copse outside of Pontiac, Michigan, somewhere he said that their father had once taken them on a hunt and that he knew the area well. They set Dean's body into the earth and marked it with a simple cross.

San and Buffy then immediately parted ways with Bobby. They shot down every offer of shelter and every insistence of his that they needed to rest and recuperate from their ordeals. Buffy was the only one who spared a glance backwards as they drove off. She couldn't decide whether the man was more angry or sad.

The pair booked a motel room somewhere on the outskirts of Grand Rapids. Buffy took a long, _long_ shower before gratefully passing out onto her bed. When she woke up the next morning, she was astonished to find her (rather pungent) brother lying on the floor. An empty bottle of whiskey lay under one outflung hand. When he recovered, they drove off.

The next week proceeded in much the same manner, at least for Sam. He would drive until he felt like stopping, they would book a motel, and then he would drink himself into oblivion. Buffy, however, either apathetically watched television or walked aimlessly around whatever town they were in until exhaustion set in. She tried his method of dealing with their misery once, woke up with the most astoundingly horrific hangover, threw up every meal she'd ever eaten, and made the decision to never touch alcohol again.

Thankfully she managed to think of a coping mechanism that both distracted her and got Sam to consider sobriety. They'd spent the months before Dean's death trying to circumvent his crossroads deal coming due; now they could change tactics to trying to pull him out of Hell.

Sam blinked owlishly at his sister when she mentioned the possibility. A maniacal gleam suddenly entered his eye, one that took Buffy aback. He immediately tossed his half full bottle of Jim Beam into the trash and marched into the bathroom to take an invigoratingly cold shower.

They avoided Bobby and Giles (despite the elder men's extensive libraries neither Sam or Buffy were prepared to face their respective father figures), but they managed to unearth a few tomes that had been squirreled away by various demons and witches. The Roadhouse and its regular supply of hunters became a secondary source. Those visits were often fraught with tension as Buffy spurned Jo's many attempts to get her to talk and Sam treated both Ellen and Ash as if they were informants rather than friends.

It was dead end after dead end. Two days ago Buffy had found her brother lying on the floor of the bathroom. An empty bottle was in the tub and a vile slurry floated in the toilet. A similar scene occurred last night. Now he'd gone out who knew where and had yet to return.

She fingered the claddagh ring hanging around her neck. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. Sam needed her, desperately, but she hadn't really taken a moment to mourn her losses. Sure, there were the nightmares and the crying herself to sleep, but where was the, "It'll be all right, Buffy" and the, "I'm here for you, Buffy"?

The town in… wherever they were at (Nebraska? Oklahoma? Somewhere flat, unpopulated, and hot) was small. Buffy had already done one circuit of the entire town and was contemplating a second.

A sudden thought occurred to her as she recalled her wanderings. There had been one particular intersection that was invitingly isolated and rather fascinatingly set in precise right angles. The road had yet to be paved despite its frequent usage, and the soil was loose enough to be disturbed easily by hand.

In other words, a near perfect crossroads.

At that revelation, Buffy cried, "Son of a _bitch!_ " (in a manner Dean would have been extremely proud of) and sprinted out of the motel.

* * *

She arrived just in time to see her intoxicated brother slam Ruby's knife into a demon's hand. "I don't want ten years," Sam growled. "I don't want one year. I don't want _candy!_ I want to trade places with Dean."

"No," snarled the demon.

"But I want candy," Buffy said blithely. Her brother stumbled backwards away from the demon and stared at her, dumbfounded.

The Slayer gave the demon a look that had him cringing. "Don't. Move." She then turned the same caustic expression on Sam. "What the hell are you doing?"

The far taller man loomed threateningly. However, in Sam's drunken state Buffy was more concerned about being puked on than any possible violence. "I'm getting our brother back," he slurred. "And this dickhead won't deal!"

A wry chuckle cut through their exchange. Both siblings jerked their heads towards the demon. "Because Dean's in Hell, right where we want him," he hissed. "We've got everything exactly the way we want it."

"That makes no sense!" Sam shouted. "Lilith wants me dead. Just let Dean go and she can have me."

"I can't. I _won't_. You want to kill me? Go ahead. I've made my peace."

Momentarily confounded, Sam snatched up his discarded bottle and resumed emptying the contents. Buffy, however, folded her arms and declared, "Then take me."

Her brother choked on his liquor as the demon licked his lips. "The Slayer in Hell," he murmured. "Oh, that I'd live to see the day."

"Well, here I am." Buffy flung her arms out as Sam coughed and croaked out denials. "One time offer! Slayer for Dean Winchester. Going once…"

The demon remained silent. "Going twice…?"

Before Buffy could finish her countdown, the creature snarled, with great reluctance, "No."

"Fine." Without further ado the Slayer yanked the Kurdish blade from the demon's hand and stabbed it into the thing's neck.

As it sparked and died, Sam grabbed his sister's shoulder and spun her around. Her nose wrinkled indelicately at his breath. "What were you _thinking?_ "

"What was _I_ —" Buffy stomped her foot. "What were _you_ thinking? That this was somehow going to make it all better? Did you finally drink every single one of your brain cells to death?"

"Dean's death is _my_ fault and I will fix it! Even if it means I take his place."

* * *

 _Present…_

* * *

"Then she punched me," Sam said ruefully. "A lot."

"Seriously?" Dean asked his sister.

"Oh, because you would have reacted so much better in that situation." she answered.

Sam rubbed his jaw ruefully. The bruises he'd found there the next day had been extremely memorable. "Anyways," he continued. "That's when the other demons showed up."

* * *

 _Five months ago…_

* * *

Buffy was yelling something Sam found completely incomprehensible when he spotted the headlights coming in from the north. He spat out a nauseating mixture of blood and whiskey before pointing wordlessly at the approaching vehicle.

His sister was immediately on alert. She rushed over to yank Ruby's knife from the crossroad demon's body and stood protectively in front of him. Ironic, Sam thought, that she'd been the one he'd needed protection from just a few minutes ago.

"Maybe they're just lost," Buffy murmured hopefully.

No such luck. The car slid to a stop and birthed two strangers, a nondescript man in a suit and a full lipped brunette. The man marched over to the woman and grabbed her upper arm in a vise-like grip. Unsurprisingly, the man bore black eyes. The woman took one glance at the corpse lying across the table and tried to bolt.

"Don't," the demon said menacingly. He shook his captive viciously. The brunette winced and nodded, obviously terrified.

Buffy glanced from the demon to the woman. She couldn't get to it before he harmed or killed her and Sam was too inebriated to be of any help. Snark was her only option. "I knew you demons were such manly men. Takes a lot to overpower us weak little girls."

"Shut up," it snarled. Before Buffy could think of further rejoinders she found herself flying. Her head clanged into the dim lamppost and she fell bonelessly to the dirt.

Sam lunged for the Kurdish blade but stopped when it flew into the air and into the woman's hand. "Thanks for not letting this burn with my house, Sam," she said.

"Ruby," he growled back. The hunter cursed himself; sober he might have realized the ruse of the hapless victim for what it was. Without the blade it was impossible to take on two demons at once. He settled for glaring murderously.

"It's nice to be back," Ruby purred. "Where I was, even for Hell, it was nasty. I guess I really pissed Lilith off. Imagine my relief when she gave me one last chance to take it topside. And all I had to do was find you and kill you."

"Hurry up and do it," the other demon snapped as he gazed hungrily at Buffy's prone form.

"Fine." Nonchalantly, Ruby flipped the blade into a reverse grip and stabbed her counterpart in the back.

A few delirious moments passed while Sam fought to comprehend what had just happened. Ruby hurried over to Buffy and cradled her in her arms. She took a few steps towards the Impala before realizing Sam wasn't following. "Well?" she called impatiently. "We've got to go. Now!"

* * *

 _Present…_

* * *

"Buffy, she saved our lives," Sam argued.

"Sure she did," his sister countered. "While I was knocked out and had no idea what was going on she totally did that."

"Dude," Dean said as he plunked down his beer. "Why are you so freaking bent out of shape about this?"

"Because as soon as she showed up Sam forgot I existed!"

Dean narrowed his eyes at his brother. Chastised, Sam bowed his head as he locked his fingers and set his elbows on his knees. "She… She was teaching me to use my powers. I didn't think you'd approve."

"You didn't think I'd approve," Buffy repeated disbelievingly. "But lying about it and acting like everything was suddenly okay was all right."

"Fine, it was more than that," Sam sighed. "She was helping me cope in other ways too. I mean, I was a crappy student!" He threw his hands out as he remembered his own exasperation . "I wanted everything to be perfect right away! You can't believe how frustrating it was. And-And along with that… well… she gave me something you couldn't."

"What could a _demon_ have given you that your _sister_ couldn't?"

Both of his siblings lifted their eyebrows when Sam's cheeks reddened. "Um. Well it wasn't so much the, um… demon… as it was… well…" He cleared his throat. "I mean, she showed me medical papers that said her vessel was brain dead anyways and that meant the soul was gone, so when we… I mean it really wasn't—"

"Sam," Dean cut in harshly. "If you make me think about what it's like to get it on with _Ruby_ I will take a knife and stab myself in the brain to get rid of the imagery."

"Ugh," Buffy groaned as she dropped her face into her palms. "Too late."

"It was more than just that!" Sam said defensively. He shot to his feet and began to pace. "She said things to me when I would have gone right to Lilith, ready or not. I was ready to _die_ to kill that bitch and she told me…" He heaved another great sigh and turned to Dean. "She told me that it wasn't what you would have wanted. And," Sam said as he then turned to Buffy, "she told me that I still had a sister to look out for."

"Then why didn't you do it?" Buffy asked quietly. "You were there, Sam, the whole time. But you weren't."

"What do you mean?" asked Dean.

Without taking her eyes off of her younger brother, Buffy said, "He stopped drinking. That was good. But then every chance he'd get he was gone. We'd get somewhere. He'd take off. I didn't know where. He'd take the car so for all I knew every night he was going to leave me wherever we were."

Sam began to explain. "I was with—"

"Yeah, we know who you were with and what you were doing," snapped Dean. "What I don't get is if you're tellin' me she convinced you that you still had family to take care of then why didn't you do it?"

Sam sat heavily down on a recliner. "Because by the time Ruby managed to get my head on straight you were back. Buffy," he said mournfully, "you can't know how sorry I am, how much it eats me up that I failed you like that. And… And I don't even know where to begin to fix it."

"Let's start with no more secrets," Buffy answered. "No more lies."

The final morsel what of his clandestine dealings with Ruby entailed lay on the tip of Sam's tongue. But with both his siblings now able to look past his months of self-indulgence he couldn't let it out. Later, he promised himself. After they'd forgiven him completely for this summer. Then he could tell them everything.

"All right," Sam lied quietly. "I promise."

Buffy nodded, then in a quick reversal of attitude leapt from her seat to wrap her arms around her younger brother's neck. "I love you, Sam," she whispered, "but sometimes you make it really hard to like you."

Sam huffed out a wry chuckle before untangling himself from his sister. She sat down and took another sip of Coke as both her brothers reached for another beer. "Okay," Sam said shakily as he tipped his bottle towards Dean. "Your turn."

At first they didn't think he was going to say anything. Dean stared off into the distance and drank. "It was four months up here," he finally murmured, "but down there… Time's different. It was more like _forty years_.

"Oh, God," Buffy whispered.

And before his siblings could even begin to comprehend that nightmarish number, Dean began talking, relentlessly, remorsefully, what had been done to him in Hell. The indescribable pain. The illusions of his family mutilating him and each other. Screaming and weeping and telling the demon who did these things to go fuck himself every time he was offered reprieve, for the only way to escape was to step off the rack and do these atrocities to others. Then, after all of that, the next day he was miraculously whole, and everything would begin again.

Then the tears began to flow.

"For thirty years, I told him 'no'," Dean said, his voice cracking. He put his beer on the table and locked his fingers together. "But then I couldn't do it anymore. I _couldn't_. And I got off that rack. God help me, I got right off it," he whispered, his voice spiking in pitch, "and I started ripping them apart! The things I did to them…"

"Stop!" Buffy cried. She jumped to her feet, her own eyes wet. " _Thirty years_ , Dean," she said as she knelt down in front of her big brother. "You held out for _thirty years_. It's longer than anyone could have. And… And you only did it to stop them from hurting you."

"No," Dean choked out harshly. "I didn't."

"What?" Sam said, startled.

"What do you mean?" Buffy asked, her eyes widening.

Their brother's knuckles whitened. His eyes were savage, lost in bloody memories, while his voice bore a mix of loathing and gratification. "All those years of pain. Getting to deal some of it out yourself made it just wash away. I didn't care who they put in front of me. Could have been either of you. Could have been Jo or Joyce or Willow; I would have just cut them up. What I did to them I did for the _sheer pleasure_ of it."

Buffy stood up on quivering legs and stepped back from Dean as he began to both laugh and cry. "You think Sam was being a monster? You think you guys got demon in you? Well you ain't nothing to what I became down there." He swiped his sleeve across his eyes and stood. "There's this hole in me now and nothing's gonna fill it. Not booze or sex or killing monsters. So there. I talked. We done?"

Neither of his siblings spoke as both Sam and Buffy realized how insignificant their misery had been compared to what their brother had been through. Through the silence Dean wrestled with his turmoil and self-loathing and brought his tears under control. He picked up his beer as his stood, chugged the rest down, and hurled the empty bottle into Angel's dusty fireplace. Buffy jumped at the explosive shatter.

"Dean?" Sam said cautiously.

"Don't," Dean growled. "Just don't. Just… Ieave me alone for a while, okay?"

"Okay, Dean," Buffy told him, the pity in her eyes a blade in his heart. "Whatever you need."

"Yeah," he muttered. He turned his back on his family to head for the hallway. After a few steps into the darkness he leaned against a wall. Relief flooded through him when neither sibling followed. Their voices drifted faintly down the corridor before disappearing completely as they left the manor.

Dean slid down to the floor, then cut off a startled gasp when a voice said quietly, "You didn't tell them."

"No," he replied hoarsely, lowering his gaze as Angel crouched down in front of him. "They don't need to know."

* * *

 _Undeterminable day_

* * *

Angel hadn't heard from Dean in a while. How long it was exactly he couldn't say. The days and weeks and months were blending into an amalgam of suffering and despair. Without his unseen confidant it became harder and harder to keep from descending in madness. How much longer he could maintain the effort through the unceasing torment was a question he was afraid to ponder.

Idly he wondered what they would do with him if he did lose his sanity. After all, the vampire's presence was an anomaly that seemed to perpetually delight the demons. He supposed that after eons of scourging only human souls an intact monster was a great novelty.

Angel sighed. In the last few days before Dean had disappeared the man had begun to shut down. He'd refused to engage in their daily routines and rejected any attempt to further mundane conversation. There were stretches of time where the vampire spoke without expecting an answer in the hopes that his voice offered Dean a modicum of comfort.

But then came the day when there was a dearth of sound that wasn't mere silence. Even down here Angel's senses were heightened. He'd been able to hear Dean's breathing and the shuffles that signified even the most minute adjustment in position.

Now there was nothing.

A few panicked theories ran through the vampire's head. They'd somehow tortured Buffy's brother so far as to obliterate his soul. They'd finally heard their furtive whispers and moved Dean to another cell. They'd decided to permanently leave him on the rack.

Or, and this was something Angel refused to believe, Dean had accepted the demon's offer.

He was contemplating this theory when the demons came to take him for his daily dose of horror. They threw his slack body onto a rack (struggling, Angel found, only made the things more excited) and locked him in.

Angel had discovered that each demon had a distinct footstep in accordance to whatever form chose their fancy. Most of them tended to stay with whatever they had looked like as a human being. Perhaps the familiarity created a shred of hope.

These steps, however, were new. And the grating, mocking voice definitely so. "Angelus," it purred. "And how are we today, hmm?"

Defiant, Angel jerked against his restraints and bared his teeth at the demon. It tsked at him. "Now, now I would have thought you'd learned some manners after all this time. I'm letting someone _special_ take care of you today. It'll be a treat for the both of you." The demon gestured and another set of feet approached. Angel snapped his head over to the new arrival…

And saw Dean.

"Now remember," the demon said pedagogically, "the heart and the head need to remain intact. Everything else is fair game."

Angel's eyes widened at Buffy's brother's smirk. "I think by now I know what I'm doing," Dean said coldly. He picked up a shaving razor and licked his lips in anticipation.

"Isn't this wonderful?" the demon said to Angel. Its face bore a grin of delight. "Two friends, together again. I must congratulate myself for orchestrating such a grand reunion."

So. Dean's presence with him in their cells was no accident. They had put the man there specifically so that they could take him away. The creatures had given them both the chance to build each other's hope up in order to bring it crashing down. Despair lodged in the vampire's heart and he fought desperately to loosen its hold.

"Dean, you don't need to do this," Angel cried pleadingly. "They can't make you do anything you don't want!" His friend hesitated, the gleaming edge of his razor poised on top of the vampire's belly.

"Deeeeean," sang the demon. "I'm wai-ting!"

"Don't listen to him," urged Angel. His anguish spiked when Dean's expression hardened.

"Shut up," the man growled as he reached into the vampire's mouth and sliced off his tongue.

* * *

 _Present…_

* * *

"Dean," Angel said softly. "What you did to me… What you kept doing to me…" The vampire shook his head. "Whatever happened to me in Hell was well deserved. Dean," he repeated as he gently reached out and tipped the man's head up, "I forgave you for it. It's time you forgive yourself."

"I can't," Dean choked out. "I can't."

Finally, in the face of possible redemption, in the absence of family, Dean's tenuous hold on his emotions snapped. The tears flowed, slow at first, then in a waterfall of despair. His frame was wracked with sorrow, jerking with every sob, and nothing he told himself could make the deluge of self-abhorrence and misery stop. When Angel put a hand on his shoulder, ostensibly for comfort, it only made him cry harder.

He could save a hundred lives. He could save a thousand. But nothing he could do would ever bring him absolution.

* * *

 **Author's Note** : I'm letting the Roadhouse still exist because I like the place. Also I never mentioned it burning down and Ash dying which gave me an unintentional opening to do so. Anyone who objects: Thbbt.


	47. Book III: Chapter 47

(9/10/2017) A chapter that may or may not further the story along but I wanted to write it anyways. This is one of my favorite Buffy episodes ever and I've been waiting to do it for ages! Which meant that some of this was already written, thus the quickness.

Just a quick reminder: I am fitting Buffy stuff into the Supernatural universe. They do not exist in tandem.

Thank you **thedarkpoemaster** , **Timelord2162** , **jkmp28** , **IoSolUno** , **Sage of Wind Dragons** , **demon19027** , and **RHatch89** for the reviews! And if you favoriters and followers leave a note you get vampire Willow's corset!

* * *

Buffy only received a text when her brothers left to check on some mysterious deaths in Idaho. Apparently some magicians (of the slight of hand sort, not the demonically powered, stinky ingredient using sort) were being killed in odd ways. Dean left some pointedly derisive comments over Sam's childhood obsession with the hobby but made no mention of either Sam and Buffy's reconciliation or his revelations regarding Hell.

"Oh good," she sighed to herself. "Dean's back to being Mr. Nothing's Wrong With Me I'm Perfectly Fine Har-Har-Har!"

The magical mystery was solved fairly quickly, but in the meantime Spike returned to Sunnydale and wreaked havoc on Buffy and her friends. Thankfully the vampire left soon afterwords, but he left a mess in his wake. Buffy texted her brothers and said that apparently Willow and Xander had been harboring a crush on each other. Upon realizing that they might die, the pair had kissed, only to be caught by their respective significant others.

After fleeing the scene, Cordelia fell through a set of rotted stairs and ended up impaled on a steel pipe. She withdrew to nurse both her internal injuries and her broken heart. When she finally returned to school she found herself subject to ridicule by her former crowd of teenaged mean girls and, unwilling to fall back into Buffy's crowd, ended up pathetically alone.

The exception was a new student, Anya Jenkins, who coaxed out the tale of misbegotten love from the forlorn girl and offered recompense. After a humiliating incident at The Bronze and traveling through some circular logic, Cordelia decided that it was Buffy's fault that her life hand gone to hell. She then uttered the phrase that changed everything.

"I wish Buffy Summers had never come to Sunnydale!"

"Done."

* * *

 _Unknown Date_

* * *

As his phone dialed, Rupert Giles, librarian and Watcher, stared at the rune he'd copied from the dead girl's arm.

According to the other White Hats, Cordelia Chase was nothing more than a flighty teenager whose fashion sense overrode her common sense. The things she knew and said, however, were impossible. How had she known about his training as a Watcher? How did she know the Slayer's name? Why did she think that the world had been better than this?

Of course at this point, especially with the Master having taken over virtually the entire west coast, _anything_ had to be better.

Perhaps the girl had been delusional. Well, it wouldn't do any good to linger what the dead may or may have known. Something big was occurring soon, and if it was what he feared than it was important that the Slayer be at his disposal.

Unfortunately, her Watcher, a young upstart named Wesley Windham-Pryce, appeared to have lost his charge.

"She's very busy," Wesley snapped.

"Yes, I understand," Giles said urgently, "but it's imperative that I see her. Here."

"Well I don't know where she is at the moment."

"You are her Watcher! I'd expect her to at least check in to—"

"Do you think I haven't tried to reign in the girl? Her male relatives are _hunters_. She's been with them for a long time and thinks she knows how to take care of herself without the Council's aide."

"Hunters," Giles scoffed.

"Those men are far more capable than you would think. And I very much doubt that _you_ would do much better when they decide to make their point at the barrel of a gun!"

"Well… Just give her the message, if you ever see her again," he added scathingly before snapping his phone closed.

Giles stared at the rune again. He'd seen it before, he was certain of it…

* * *

Daniel Osbourne (who absolutely hated his first name and insisted on being called "Oz") had been a White Hat ever since he had had his girlfriend stolen from his arm. To make matters worse, Oz had been reunited with the girl a mere few days later… and she'd been turned. Now Willow Rosenberg was one of the Master's nastiest lieutenants alongside her childhood friend, Xander Harris.

Along with fellow White Hat Larry Blaisdell, Oz was prepping the night's stakes and crossbow bolts when Giles cried, "Finally!" After a day of near constant research it appeared the man finally had an answer to Cordelia's ramblings.

"What is it?" Oz asked as the librarian rushed from his office, open book in hand.

"That symbol is an ancient word for the angel, Naamah," Giles said excitedly. "She is often associated with, um, physical love, although why she would have marked Miss Chase I have no idea."

"Bad breakup?" Larry suggested.

"I suppose. In any case, I have an angel summoning ritual in a book back at my home." Giles finally looked up from his reading and blinked at the pair of boys. "Were you thinking of patrolling tonight?"

"Nah," said Oz. "Just getting prepared for tomorrow."

"Very well. Get some rest and do be careful."

* * *

In retrospect, Giles should have heeded his own advice. On his drive home he spotted a cluster of people being forced into a van by a half dozen vampires. He immediately grabbed his cross and a stake and leaped to their rescue.

The reliquary repelled the creatures immediately. They shied away from it, snarling, as Giles turned to their captives and yelled, "Run!"

The humans sprinted away, much to his relief. However, now the librarian had a far more pressing issue. He backed up against the side of the van as the vampires recovered from their shock and began circling their newest prey.

He needn't have worried. Shotgun blasts repeatedly rang out. Normal bullets wouldn't have done much more than slowed the monsters down, but these appeared to burn horrifically. Those that could flee were doing so as those who couldn't were being methodically staked one after another.

When they were done, two men followed a slightly built, scarred young blonde and approached. "Buffy Summers?" asked Giles.

"Yeah," she replied with ill-concealed irritation. "Mind telling me what the fuck I'm doing here?"

* * *

The trio looked suspiciously at Giles but capitulated once he explained his former profession as a Watcher. They offered him a ride back to his home in their well-maintained black muscle car and, after restocking their munitions from the trunk, followed him inside.

As soon as the door closed, John Winchester, her father, slammed Giles against the wall and growled, "That little bitch posing as my girl's Watcher said she needed to be here so we're here. Mind explainin' why we drove halfway across the country to sit on the damn Hellmouth?"

"Dad," wearily said Buffy's brother, Dean.

"Vampires," Giles explained as he was let go. He straightened his clothing. "I'm assuming you know of the Master?"

"Ugly son of a bitch?" asked John. "Made himself King of California or something?"

"Or something," Giles repeated in agreement. "We have reason to believe he may be planning something horrible."

"And what do you expect _me_ to do about it?" Buffy wondered.

"Well, I hadn't expected you to show." Giles wandered over to one of his innumerable stacks of books and slid one out. "I was working on an alternate solution."

"That being?" John demanded.

"An angel summoning."

"No such thing."

Repulsed, Giles watched Buffy hock phlegm into her hand and give her boots a literal spit shine. "W-Well," he stammered when her father cleared his throat, "all the lore points to the contrary. In any case, it is impossible to do so without an angel's sigil and it just so happens that I've come across one."

"The hell would an angel do about this shit?" asked Dean as he popped open the glass decanter containing Giles' brandy and took a swig.

"It's… It's hard to explain."

John rolled his eyes. "Well, while you do your mumbo jumbo maybe me and my kids can handle the Master like he's supposed to be handled." He turned to his daughter. "You got the rock salt rounds?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Let's load 'em up and get going." Buffy's father turned to Giles. "Where's the Master's lair?"

"Wait!" Giles cried as the family loaded shotguns and prepared to depart. "At least let me gather some more people to help."

"We don't play well with others," Buffy snapped. "Now," she said as she cocked her gun, "before I get testy, where is it?"

* * *

The Bronze was a quick jog away and with the encroaching dawn Buffy and her family felt safe enough to walk to the establishment. After ensuring his children were armed with shotguns, stakes, and crosses, John led them to the club-turned-abattoir. "Why're we wasting time on this?" Buffy grumbled.

"Because we're saving people," Dean replied. "Not just looking for a fight like _some_ people."

His sister swiveled on her heel and jabbed Dean in the chest. "Don't you ever question why I do what I do!"

"All right! All right! Chill!" Dean smacked the offending finger away. They continued to walk. "So you really think yellow-eyes is here?" Dean asked his father.

"Makes sense," John replied. "Signs enough point to a demon, not just some vampire with an ego."

"And we ain't tellin' the Watcher wannabe because…?"

"He don't need to know." John stopped walking. "We're here."

"Only one vamp inside," Buffy announced. She tromped ahead of her father and up to the door. Soon as she arrived she used the flat of her boot to slam it open.

Her brother and father followed her inside, guns prepped. Buffy's Slayer senses may have indicated a dearth of monsters but that didn't preclude the absence of human lackeys. The scar on the girl's upper lip attested to the consequences of making that assumption.

As expected, the club was empty. A few corpses lay stiffening inside suspended cages and the aftermath of blood infused hedonism lay strewn all about: empty bottles of alcohol, spatters of dried, brown fluids, various articles of clothing left behind by vampiric partygoers.

Buffy swept her eyes around the room before heading unerringly towards a downward set of stairs. She descended carelessly, a stake twirling in her fingers, then stopped in front of the bars of a cell. When her family joined her, she pointed. "Vamp."

At Buffy's voice, the half naked creature jerked out of his fetal position and scrambled as far from the door as possible. Chains leading from his neck, wrists, and ankles clanked against one another as he moved. Once he got to the corner, he drew in his limbs tightly and remained shivering there, his head and body turned away.

"Holy shit," Dean whispered. The skin on the vampire's back bore a litany of abuse. Newer lash marks were layered over old, partially healed ones. Under the cuffs blood seeped; his vampiric physiology would have healed the chafed wounds as soon as they were inflicted. Therefore he was endlessly closing and reopening those sores every time he moved.

When he finally turned to peer at his guests they saw fear etched into his expression. Relief, then confusion, then took its place. "You're her," he croaked. "Buffy Summers. The Slayer."

John pointed the barrel of his shotgun at the creature. "How do you know my girl's name?"

"I waited," the vampire whispered deliriously. "I waited here for you. But you never… I was supposed to help you."

Buffy huffed out a derisive noise. "You. Help me."

"The Master rose." The creature struggled to his feet. "He let me live to punish me. I kept hoping maybe you'd come. I thought… I was told I had a destiny."

When he turned around the family received another shock. Someone had taken care to dig _holes_ into the thing's chest, ones that were deep enough to show muscle and bone. They'd been scorched at the edges; meaning that whatever it was that fed a vampire's resilience had been slowed. Blood seeped from each opening and pattered on the cement floor.

It was enough to stir the Slayer's pity. She yanked on the cell door off of its hinges then moved in to rip the creature's bonds away. As she worked, Dean asked, "So do you got a name? Or do we get to call you Random Vamp Guy Number One?"

"Angel."

"Shitty name. Parents hated you, huh?"

"No, it's… never mind."

"You got an idea where the Master's at?" wondered John.

"Factory. Easy access through the sewers."

"Good. Lead the way."

* * *

Giles cleared his desk. He scribed a circle and, within it, the proper symbols in chalk. At four points at the end of two, intersecting perpendicular lines were further symbols. Candles flickered over the lettering.

With trepidation, the Watcher flung the final ingredient into his copper bowl. A moment later, a young woman with pretty, angular features was standing before him.

"Why do you summon me?" asked the angel.

* * *

The quartet had watched from a shadowy alcove, revolted, as the Master's plan was unveiled; assembly line methodology put to horrific use. A victim was strapped into a conveyor belt. It shoved her between a set of needles. Mechanical arms shoved them into her jugular, her heart, her femoral arteries. Blood was drained into insulated tubs, to "keep it tasting fresh." Once finished, the corpse continued its way down the belt straight into an incinerator.

More important than the mechanical innovation, however, was that a man with yellow eyes stood on the raised dais right alongside the Master. The demon surveyed the gathering with a smug expression.

The girl's death was unfortunate, but the successful display distracted the watching crowd of vampires and demons enough that Buffy, Angel, and the two Winchesters slipped easily into attack positions.

"Welcome to the future," proclaimed the Master. He took a long sip from his goblet as his cronies cheered.

Being closest, John cocked his gun and fired. The glass shattered and the ancient vampire staggered.

Chaos erupted.

* * *

"The girl, Cordelia Chase," Giles said quietly. "What did she do?"

Naamah smiled darkly. "I had no idea her wish would be so exciting! Brave New World. I hope she likes it."

"Is-Is that what you are meant to do? Grant wishes?"

"No. Once, I was told to observe, to protect." She looked off in the distance, reminiscing. "I saw beauty. I saw love. I had never seen love before." Her face twisted in grief and fury. "And then I saw love become horror. It became beatings, murders, _rapes_. And I knew, then, why I had been abandoned."

A stray crack of lightning touched down in Giles' courtyard just as his electrical wiring went haywire. On the wall behind Naamah the shadow of great wings unfolded from her back.

"I was here," she declared, "to right these wrongs."

* * *

The demons were few enough that they were only slight threats, particularly after Dean had smashed open the lock on the cage that held a few dozen potential blood sources. Several fled, but the remainder picked up whatever was handy and entered the fray.

Angel blocked an attack on Buffy from Xander only to have a demon rip his heart out from behind. He gave one anguished look to the Slayer before disintegrating. Buffy stepped through the ashes as she engaged the boy.

The Master's second best lieutenant was no match for the Slayer and her brother. Dean fired rock salt into the creature's back and Buffy immediately plunged her stake into Xander's chest.

Willow, the Master's best lieutenant, saw her lover die and was distracted. Oz and Larry each took an arm, carried her, screaming, backwards towards their former cage, and impaled her on a jutting piece of wood.

John headed straight for the yellow-eyed demon, shoving vampires out of the way and blasting demons with his shotgun. It watched his progress with unconcealed amusement. When the man finally reached the podium, he pulled from his jacket an ancient six-shooter with a long barrel.

Yellow-eyes stared contemptuously at the Colt, the only weapon known to man that could put an end to his machinations. Before John could pull the trigger, the demon flicked a hand. The hunter flew into a cement pillar and hung there, immobilized.

"Johnny!" yellow-eyes said, delighted, as he appeared in front of Buffy's father. It patted the man's face affectionately. "It's been a while. Did you miss me?"

"Fuck you."

"You speak like that in front of that little girl of yours?" The demon grabbed John's right arm and squeezed. Bones snapped under his grip and the Colt fell to the floor. "Hey," yellow-eyes said casually, "remember how Sammy died in your other boy's arms? How you got a good front seat to that whole scene?" It leaned forward and smiled horribly. "Guess what? I gotcha another great seat for your other two kids!"

* * *

"Please," Giles said quietly as the angel folded her wings. "I'm begging you. Whatever the girl wished for, please take it back!"

" _This_ is the world now," Naamah replied forcefully as she advanced upon the former Watcher. "Nothing you can do will change this."

* * *

Buffy was fighting the Master. She was good; John had seen to that. But she wasn't good enough.

The old vampire backhanded John's daughter, leaving her dazed. It put two hands on the side of her head and snapped her neck.

Dean was out of bullets. One demon appeared behind him and stabbed him in the back. Two vampires then rushed in and buried their fangs into his jugular and wrist.

And John could do nothing but scream.

* * *

"Enough."

Time stopped.

Naamah swiveled around to face the newcomer, a dark haired, blue eyed man wearing a suit and trench coat.

"You cannot stop me, Castiel!" Naamah cried defiantly. "I have been doing this for a millennia. The humans expect me, no, _need_ me to answer their prayers for vengeance!"

"You have irrevocably changed the paths of the Slayer and the Winchesters," the other angel growled. "Our superiors have decided that this needs to be fixed. I require something of yours."

Castiel moved fast, a nearly imperceptible move save for what was wrought. A thin, bloody line had been scored along Naamah's neck. From it flowed a bright, gleaming substance. The glowing form swept itself into a small vial in Castiel's hand. He capped it immediately, ignoring the choked, indignant sounds coming from the other angel.

Unseen wings fluttered in the air, sweeping Giles' papers off of his desk. Time began again…

* * *

"I wish Buffy Summers had never come to Sunnydale!"

"Done," Naamah uttered.

Nothing happened. Her hand flew to her mouth. "No."

"That would be cool!" Cordelia exclaimed as she walked to her car. "No, wait. I wish Buffy Summers had never been born." She continued rattling off a list of wants as Naamah stood still and stared at her hands.

A mosquito landed on her arm and she slapped it away. "Ow! Oh. Oh no." The blood welled and dropped. "Oh no. I'm—"

"Human," said Castiel from behind the former angel. "You are now human."

"I'll kill you!" she screamed and launched herself at him. Her fists pounded against his chest, but where before he may have been thrown off of his feet he now firmly stood his ground.

"The Winchesters and the Slayer are now on the proper path," he proclaimed. "And you, Naamah, are now banned from Heaven."

Castiel flew away, and despite the stares of her classmates Naamah kept screaming imprecations at the sky until her newly mortal throat could bear it no longer.

* * *

Buffy put the last of her laundry away. "There!" she declared to no one as she gazed happily at her nicely folded clothing.

As she reached over to grab the ones to be hung in the closet, the sound of enormous wings filled the room. "Are you all right?"

Buffy yelped in surprise and flung her dresses and blouses in the air. Several landed on her intruder. "Stop doing that!" she hissed at Castiel.

"Are you all right?" he repeated from beneath her rose patterned button up.

Buffy swiped her blouse off of the angel's head. "Other than having to deal with the Edward Cullen of Heaven, I'm peachy!"

"I don't understand that reference."

As she bent over to pick up her discarded clothing, Buffy wondered, "Why wouldn't I be okay? Something happen that I should know about?"

After a moment that was just this side of suspicious, Castiel said, "No."

"Uh-huh. Right." Buffy turned to grab a hanger. "So then why would you—oh." By the time she had twisted back to face the angel he was gone. A few pages of math homework fluttered off her desk in his wake.

"Well," she muttered to herself. "That was weird."

* * *

 **Acknowledgement** : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episode, "The Wish" (BtVS 3.09).

 **Author's Note** : Anael is supposedly the angel of love, however in this universe she's a grigori (SPN 10.20). Figured after centuries of being on Earth she'd have gone a little nuts. Her representing "love" is a myth that's gotten twisted with the years. Plus her name worked out, so yay for me!

Just a few points on the alternate reality:

Hey, it's just a hint of the possibilities and it's not the full story. Maybe I'll flesh it out one day to be a tale all on its own? Feel free to steal the idea in the meantime.


	48. Book III: Chapter 48

(9/15/2017) There are a lot of critiques regarding the transformation of Buffy lore into Supernatural lore. I don't mind, but hey, it's my thang; I just like doing something different. One thing I will say is that none of the Buffy characters will be underpowered in any way. Trust me, when Glory comes about there's no question she'll kick everyone's butt.

Did anyone else know Mrs. Tran voiced Amy Wong from Futurama? Osric Chau's cosplay during that Hillywood video makes so much more sense now.

Thank you **thedarkpokemaster** , **jkmp28** , **camagassi72** , **RHatch89** , **demon19027** , **Sage of Wind Dragons** , and **Sal** the guest dude for the reviews! And if you favoriters and followers leave a note you get popplers!

* * *

 _January 2008_

* * *

Christmas came and went, marked with Buffy's brothers making the haul to California to spend it with her and her mother. They provided the ham and Joyce cooked it to perfection. The highlight was Dean polishing off an entire pecan pie by himself, much to the amusement of his siblings.

Buffy brought up Castiel's weird visit during dinner. They all agreed that it was most likely Castiel being Castiel and who knew why angels did what they did?

A few weeks passed during which Sam and Dean took a few standard hunts (a ghost in Michigan and a werewolf in Houston) while desperately seeking for more seals. Their sister enjoyed some lazy, noneducational days interspersed with nightly slaying. Faith came out of her shell and joined her most evenings. They never quite approached a friendship but the pair managed to cement a pleasant working relationship. Despite the looming threat of Lilith freeing Lucifer the days passed normally (at least as far as they were concerned).

Then one Thursday evening Ruby suddenly appeared in Angel's mansion towing a skinny, bewildered young red headed woman and "normal" headed for the hills.

* * *

"Angel?" Buffy cried as she burst through the front door. "I got your voicemail."

The vampire in question was standing in his living room, arms folded, facing a familiar brunette and her companion. "It's fine, Buffy," he said calmly. "Your brothers are on their way."

"What are _you_ doing here?" the Slayer snarled at Ruby.

"Helping _her_ ," she explained.

"And she is…?"

"Anna Milton," the woman said quietly. She twisted her fingers nervously. When she looked at Buffy, she gasped.

"What?" The girl patted her own face. "Do I have a humongous zit or something?"

"Your face! Is she a demon?" Anna fearfully asked Ruby.

"No, she's… something else," came the demon's uninformative reply. She sighed, exasperated. "Look, it took me a lot of energy to get her here and I need some rest." Ruby turned towards Angel. "Don't forget the wards and salt. Who knows how many demons are on our tail." The vampire nodded as the hellspawn headed for the hallway, ostensibly to find a bed.

"Will someone tell me what the heck is going on?" Buffy asked, her hands flying up and then down.

"Come on," Angel said. "I'll explain while we do the salt. Your brothers put up most of the demon wards last time they were here. Hope Ruby doesn't wander into any traps," he added to himself.

* * *

It turned out that Anna Milton had some sort of strange power that allowed her to both hear the angels and see a demon's true face. The source of her abilities was unknown but it made her a target. While unnecessarily incarcerated at a mental institution (which Buffy greatly sympathized with), demons had begun to pursue her. She'd taken refuge in her father's church but a hellspawn with great power had overcome the sanctity of sacred ground and had nearly taken her. Only the presence of the Winchesters and Ruby saved Anna from whatever it was the demons intended.

Buffy's brothers were coming from Ohio where Anna's family had moved and settled after a few years of living in Ventura. After the Slayer called and ensured that they were both fine and on their way, she contacted Giles and Faith. The Watcher began researching possible answers to Anna's abilities and Faith took temporary residence at Angel's mansion in order to bolster their defenses.

In the meantime, Buffy went to school, filled in the rest of the Sunnydale group about the situation (sans Cordelia who, post Xander-breakup, had resumed her old supercilious ways), convinced her mother to go out of town for the weekend, and prepared for the inevitable confrontation.

* * *

"Why am I here?" Xander asked worriedly.

"To help," said Oz.

"With what exactly?"

The other boy hesitated. "Moral support," he finally replied.

They were all waiting in Angel's dining room for Buffy's brothers to arrive. Sam had called to say they were an hour or so out and that Dean really, really wanted dinner. Giles, the teenagers, and Anna partook of pizza while Ruby had gone out and gotten burgers and fries for both herself and Dean.

"I thought demons didn't, you know, eat," Willow said curiously.

"Don't," Ruby replied. She shoved another French fry into her mouth. "I just like fries. Not like Hell has a McDonald's."

"Oh. I guess that's true."

"If it did," Xander inserted, "I bet there'd be nothing but fish sandwiches."

A familiar engine's rumble floated in from the window. "Hey, B," Faith called from where she was keeping watch. "It's your bros, Sexy and Sexier."

"Ew," Buffy told the other Slayer as the Impala's doors creaked and shut. A muffled conversation took place between the two men before they turned the front door's handle and strode inside.

Buffy plowed into Sam with an enormous hug of greeting before turning to Dean and squeezing tight. She let go just in time to see her elder brother attempting to hide a wince. "Uh oh. What happened?"

"We sort of jumped out a window," Sam said.

"'Sort of'?" Dean repeated incredulously as Ruby tossed him his bag of food. "Dude, that's exactly what we did."

"Did you two get a hold of my parents?" Anna wondered anxiously as she approached. "I've-I've been calling them and they must be totally freaked."

Sam and Dean exchanged consternated looks. "Anna," Sam said hesitantly. The others had gone completely silent. "Your parents…"

"What about them?"

Sam's face bore a mixture of grief and trepidation. "I'm sorry."

"No. They're not—"

"I'm so sorry."

Anna let out an anguished moan and crumpled to her knees. Buffy and Sam both knelt down with her as Dean tossed a clanking duffel bag onto the couch. "Why?" the woman cried. "Why is this happening to me?"

The others ate as quietly as they could while Anna sobbed (with the exception of Ruby; she rather noisily shook her bag and fished out a heretofore hidden morsel). Buffy was able to wrap sympathetic arms around the woman for a few minutes before being thrust back by Anna's hands. "They're coming," she gasped.

Pizza slices were dropped and weapons grabbed. Not being particularly handy with weapons, Willow, Oz, and Xander made do with holy water bottles while Giles joined Sam and Dean in grabbing guns from their bag. The rest (Angel, Buffy, and Faith) had daggers of various lengths. Anna, having no combat abilities whatsoever, retreated into the hallway.

"My knife," Ruby demanded, her hand outstretched to Dean.

"Uh… about that…"

"You're _kidding_."

"Hey, don't look at me!"

"Thanks a lot," Sam groused.

"Great," Ruby said sardonically as she grabbed an extra Bowie. "Just _peachy_. Impeccable timing guys, really."

Whatever snappy response was forthcoming was cut off by wings stirring the air. The expected demons were absent; it was Castiel with another angel in tow. This one's vessel was an imposing black man wearing an impeccable business suit. His expression made no effort to conceal the distaste he had for his present company.

"A _stain_ ," said the newcomer as he gazed at Ruby, "two abominations," he directed towards Sam and Angel, "and you two… _things_ ," came the conclusion.

An offended Faith cried, "What the fuck, man?" as Buffy asked her brothers, "Uriel?"

"Uriel," Dean confirmed.

"Charmed, I'm sure."

"You here to get the demons off our back?" Dean queried of Castiel.

"We're here for Anna," replied the angel.

"Why?" asked Sam.

"Out of the way," snapped Uriel. He was brought up short by a tiny blonde pointing a gleaming blade at his heart.

"I think my brother asked you a question," Buffy growled.

"She has to die," came Castiel's answer.

"Why? Because she can hear you guys gossiping? Seems kinda overkill."

"It is none of your concern."

"Don't worry," Uriel said, his lips wrenched into an amused smirk. "I'll kill her gently."

Before anyone could stop her, Buffy's fist snapped up at the angel's jaw. Uriel staggered a few steps with a nearly comical look of surprise. He exchanged an furious look with his fellow angel before advancing on the Slayer.

Sam, Dean, and Giles fired their guns at Uriel as Faith moved to cut off Castiel. "Hey there, handsome."

"Leave," the angel warned. "This has nothing to do with you."

"Well, if B's involved then I'm involved. Slayers kinda gotta stick together, y'know?"

Faith threw her first punch at Castiel as Uriel slammed his fist into Buffy's face. She shook off the blow and drove a punch into Uriel's abdomen. Whereas a normal opponent would have been knocked from their feet, the angel merely grunted. He was, however, taken aback at being jumped upon from behind by one overreaching teenage boy.

As Xander tried to jam his fingers into any of Uriel's facial orifices, Willow snuck up as well as she could and cracked a vase on Castiel's head. He turned around, unharmed but indignant, causing the red headed girl to squeak, "Um… sorry?"

The trenchcoated angel tapped Willow on the forehead and she slumped to the ground, unconscious. Faith tried to resume their pugilistic discussion and was treated to the same. Before he could do it again to anyone else, however, Castiel was tackled by a snarling Angel and lost his footing.

Dean had joined his sister in throwing punches at Uriel. Fortunately the angel's maneuverability was still hampered by Xander's persistent hands and they both managed to get in a few good licks. Sam had trained his gun on the celestial intruders but feared to shoot lest he hit one of their own. In the midst of the melee, Oz and Giles slithered over to Willow and Faith and dragged them from harm's way.

As the blows to Uriel's abdomen were doing little to no damage, he decided to be rid of the literal monkey on his back. He wrenched the boy's leg from his waist and hurled him across the room.

Xander crashed into the remains of their dinner, as Uriel cracked a fist into Buffy's jaw. She sat down heavily, blood tricking down her lip, as the angel reached out with one hand and grasped Dean's neck. "I've been waiting for this," he growled, an eager grin on his face.

Before Uriel could indulge in a violent release of tension, a bright light began emanating around both him and Castiel. The pair grimaced in pain as the flashes began to grow in intensity. Their wings illuminated the surfaces behind them for a brief moment before their forms were swept from the room.

Angel's face reverted as he picked himself up off the floor. "I smell blood."

"Here," called Ruby from the hallway. Sam hurried over and found the demon helping Anna cradle her hand. Across the woman's palm was a deep, self-inflicted slice.

"Get a towel!" Sam called back to the general group.

"What did you do?" Buffy demanded of the demon as she came up behind her brother.

"Hey, I didn't do anything," Ruby countered. "I was making sure Anna was protected from those dicks when she goes and cuts herself." The demon jerked her head at the mirror.

The siblings looked up and beheld a sigil painted in Anna's blood. Three shapes (the top triangle being the only recognizable one) were set equidistant around a circle. Within that was another, angular symbol. "Are they gone?" Anna wondered quietly as Giles approached with a cloth to bind her wound.

"Yes. Did you kill them?" Buffy asked.

"No. I sent them away… far away."

"How?"

"That just popped in my head. I don't know how I did it. I just did it."

"Well, blood gushing grossness aside looks like we owe you a thanks. So… thanks."

Anna gave the Slayer a tremulous smile before hissing in pain as Giles tied off her wound. Buffy left them to their ministrations and went to check on Xander. Dean was gingerly helping the boy off of the table. A mass of cheese and sauce peeled off of his back. "Kid's okay," Dean told his sister, "other than smelling like Pizza the Hutt."

"What about you?" Buffy asked as Xander blearily shook his head.

Dean frowned down at her. "I'm fine." He gently put his hand under her chin and tilted her head over slightly. "I'm not the one sportin' the bruise. You sure that dick didn't break anything?"

Angel came up behind them, worried. "Buffy?"

Dean left the vampire to coddle his sister and headed for Sam. "Now what?" he grumbled. "Demons want Anna for something or other and angels want to crucify her."

"Rock and a hard place, yeah." Sam tapped Giles on the shoulder. "You know any psychics in the area?"

"Perhaps," replied the Watcher. "What for?"

"I think maybe we could use one to get some answers."

Wearily, Anna used the wall to get to her feet. "Answers about me, correct?" she postulated.

Sam nodded. "Might as well figure out why they want to kill you. Unless you can tell us…?"

"Tell you what?" Anna asked, her eyes wide with tears. "Tell you why my life has been leveled? Why my parents are _dead?_ I don't know. I swear. I would give _anything_ to know."

Giles fumbled around his pockets before locating his phone. "I'll make a few calls."

* * *

By the time Willow and Faith woke up, the psychic had arrived. It turned out to be an old acquaintance: Pamela Barnes, the woman whose eyes had been seared by Castiel. She had apparently been in the area for an unrelated job on the Hellmouth. The outspoken brunette stumbled in, pretended to be severely handicapped by her blindness, then unerringly reached out and pinched Sam's rear end.

While Pamela sat next to a prone Anna and prepared her to be hypnotized, Xander, Willow, and Oz retreated to the courtyard. The three teenagers peered anxiously at the gathering that remained indoors. "Anyone else totally freaked out about all this?" Xander asked.

"To put it mildly," said Oz.

"You know, things were crazy enough with Buffy being the Slayer and all this Hellmouth crap. With her brothers around it's like the weirdness goes up a thousand percent."

"It's not their fault," Willow said. "I mean, it's not like they asked to die and go to Hell and all that stuff."

"Gotta admit though," Oz inserted, "things do get more intense the second they show up."

Xander sat down on a stone bench. "I'm just worried we're going to be the meat smashed inside of two pieces of bread named Heaven and Hell."

Willow sighed. "I wish _I_ could fight or shoot a gun or have psychic powers or, you know, be useful. That's it," she said definitively. "After this I'm going to be down with the witchiness. I'm going to be doing the spell-block tango. And not a single tall, handsome hunter is going to stop me."

"I feel like I should be jealous," Oz murmured.

From inside the house, Anna gave a piercing scream. The three teenagers gaped as her body arched up against the couch and she clawed helplessly in the air. "Poor Anna," Willow said anxiously.

Her sympathy vanished in an instant as what light bulbs remained after Castiel and Uriel had been banished popped and shattered, including the one hanging over Willow's head. She let out a frightened shriek as Oz covered her with his body. Recalling that Buffy had mentioned that random lightning strikes were becoming somewhat of a regular occurrence the trio thought it prudent to hurry inside.

"Anna?" a concerned Pamela was asking. "Are you all right?"

"Thank you, Pamela," Anna replied. She was sitting up on the couch, her back almost unnaturally straight. Her voice was oddly different; more calm, more self-assured. "That helps a lot. I remember now."

"Remember what?" wondered Sam.

"Who I am." With a steely look in her eyes that certainly had not existed a mere hour before, Anna gazed around at the gathering and declared, "I'm an angel."

* * *

It turned out that Anna had voluntarily removed her Grace, the source of an angel's power, and had, quite literally, Fallen from Heaven. Her decision to abandon her post was tantamount to treason and she'd been immediately branded for death.

At one time she'd been Castiel and Uriel's superior. Their duty had been to watch over Earth in God's absence. That assignment had been her downfall; held up against the blind obedience and apathy of her fellow celestials the capriciousness of humanity was magnificent. She wanted to _feel_.

More than the problem of her ubiquitous heavenly death sentence was the fact that the demons were in relentless pursuit. "She's a flesh-and-blood angel that you can question, torture," explained Ruby. "That _bleeds_." Moreover, the demon that was leading the search, Alastair, was powerful enough to overcome sacred ground and Sam's exorcising abilities.

At that point in the conversation, Dean had blanched and left the room and Pamela had announced that she was leaving. _Now_. Prior experience told her that messing around with the powers of Heaven could have dire consequences.

Ruby disappeared and reappeared after several minutes. She handed out hex bags that would hide them from either side in the conflict. This meant that it was safe for the teenagers to leave. As Giles arranged for Pamela's transportation, Sam and Anna opened his laptop and began researching possible locations for her Grace. Oz drove Willow and Xander home.

After the crowd had thinned, Angel noticed Buffy looking around, puzzled. "He's outside with his car," Angel told her.

"Is he okay?" she asked worriedly.

"He will be."

With those less than reassuring words, Buffy headed out to the driveway. She found Dean sitting on the hood of the Impala staring up at the sky. A beer was loosely held in one hand. "You know," he said as she approached, "you never really appreciate the sky until you don't see it anymore." The hunter took a swig. "Then you see it again and it don't look real. Makes you wonder if you're really here or if you're still stuck… there."

Buffy hopped up onto the hood beside her brother. "Who's Alastair?" she asked quietly.

"Hell's Grand Torturer." He drank again. "My _teacher_."

"You mean…?"

"Yeah." Sardonically, Dean added, "He taught me everything he knows."

Buffy allowed her brother a few moments of maudlin silence before saying, "No he didn't."

"What?"

"He didn't teach you _everything_. He didn't teach you how to be an evil jerkwad."

"He could have if Cass hadn't—"

"Doesn't matter!" Buffy poked her brother's shoulder. "He _didn't_. You're still Dean Winchester, hunter of baddies and big bro to the most awesome Slayer ever. And unless you start showing me black eyes I'm going to assume that you're still the same butthead I've always known."

Touched by her assurances, Dean reached out and gave his little sister a one-armed hug. He kissed her on her head. "And you'll always be my favorite midget."

"You smell like body odor and alcoholism."

"It's a manly aroma."

"Angel doesn't smell like this!"

"He ain't a man."

" _Technically_ true, but I'm getting the feeling you weren't talking about his vampage."

"Hey, you two," Sam called as he trotted over. "We think we might have found where Anna's Grace landed."

"Where?" Dean asked as he released their sister and dropped to his feet.

"Desert up I–33. Bitter Creek National Refuge. Massive tree sprung up in between a bunch of cactus. Took only six months to get huge."

"All right, let's go."

"Can I come?" Buffy wondered eagerly as she slid off of the car.

"No," both her brothers immediately answered.

"Why not?"

The Winchesters exchanged perturbed glances. "No room," Sam tried. "Ruby's coming too."

Buffy's eyes narrowed suspiciously at him. Dean decided to intervene before his siblings' tenuously reconstructed bonds broke again. "Less stuff can kill Ruby than can kill you." After a moment he added, "And she's more expendable."

Mollified, Buffy said, "Oh, okay," while Sam glared daggers at his brother.

Dean ignored him. "Maybe you and the nerd squad can look up anything we can use against those feathered dickheads."

"Research," deadpanned Buffy. "Yay."

The front door squealed open and Ruby and Anna emerged. "We're ready to go," the demon announced.

Dean chortled a little to himself. "An angel and a demon'll be riding in the backseat. It's like the setup to a bad joke." He suddenly brightened. "Or a Penthouse Forum letter."

"Dude," Sam said bitingly. "Reality… Porn. Stop confusing them."

* * *

Buffy was woken up by a call from Dean at around four in the morning. "Muh-llo?" she managed to say.

"We're heading back," her brother said, quite obviously upset.

"Didn't you find the place?"

"Yeah, we found it. Huge fucking tree in the middle of nowhere."

"And?"

"And nothing. Anna's Grace wasn't there. Someone took it."

* * *

 **Acknowledgement** : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episode, "Heaven and Hell" (SPN 4.10).


	49. Book III: Chapter 49

(10/4/2017) I straight up got stuck on this chapter. Who knows why.

Thank you **philly cheese dude** , **demon19027** , **camagassi72** , **RHatch89** , **Sage of Wind Dragons** , **IoSolUno** , **thedarkpokemaster** , **Sal** the guest and **tullaniahgmail** the guest for the reviews! And everyone favoriting and following get socks!

* * *

Sam and Dean arrived back at Angel's manor, Anna and Ruby in the backseat, early the next morning. The three humans collapsed into various comfortable surfaces to sleep off both the disappointment and the drive while Ruby paced restlessly.

Faith and Buffy had shared a sleeping place in one of the spare bedrooms; neither Angel nor Buffy had wanted to risk temptation and the presence of the other girl made for an effective barrier. Once the Impala returned the two Slayers whiled the hours away sparring, using Sam's laptop to catch up on Grey's Anatomy, and doing regular circuits around the house to check against possible attacks.

After getting a few hours' sleep, Giles buried himself up to his neck in books looking for counter tactics against the angels. Demons were easily warded against, but the centuries-long absence of the Heavenly Host meant that what was available contained primarily conjecture and had to be taken with a grain of salt. With Willow's help Giles managed to set up a Skype call with Bobby and the pair had been comparing notes since the small hours of the morning.

Once everyone was rested and had lunch, the entire group gathered in the warded mansion to plan; or, more accurately, to hear what Sam had planned.

"That's it," he concluded.

Giles pondered. "That's…"

"Really fucking stupid!" Bobby barked from Sam's laptop. "You all are either insane or suicidal!"

"Well, not exactly the phrase I had in mind but close enough."

"Okay," Sam said as he folded his arms, "then give me an alternative."

"We run," Ruby suggested.

"For how long? Or for that matter, where the hell could we even go?"

"Bobby's panic room?" Dean offered.

"Because _that_ wouldn't get stinky and uncomfortable after a week," Buffy said wryly.

"Look," Ruby snapped, "we do _not_ want to get between these two armies. It's Godzilla and Mothra. If one side doesn't get us, the other one _will_."

The others fell silent. After a few minutes, Willow tentatively asked, "Magic?"

"Ain't no magic spell I know of that'll keep out demons _and_ angels," Bobby countered. "For that matter, don't know any witches with that kinda juice that aren't under some demon's thumb."

"Wait," Anna interjected, her hand shooting up to get their attention. Everyone quieted. "They're talking again." Her head leaned to one side as she listened to what they were all had started calling "angel radio." After several seconds she grimaced. "It's weird. Like a recording; a loop. It says, 'Dean Winchester gives us Anna by midnight, or we hurl him back to damnation.'"

The group fell silent. "Well, that's a load of crap," said the man in question.

"Anna," Sam said desperately. "Do you know of any weapon that works on an angel?"

"To what?" she replied. "To kill them?" At his answering nod she shook her head. "Nothing we could get to."

"So then we go with my plan."

"I still say your plan sucks ass," Bobby muttered. Sam reached out and slapped the laptop shut.

"Fine," Ruby sighed. "I'll be back. Hopefully."

"Be careful," said Sam.

The demon looked back at him, exasperated. "Just remember: if things go bad I offered you another way and you threw it back in my face." A moment later she was gone.

"What was that?" asked Buffy.

Sam let out a deep sigh. "She, um… she wants me to use my powers on Alastair."

"Didn't work before," Dean said suspiciously. "Back in that church?"

Sam shrugged, unwilling or unable to elaborate. "Well, we can't do anything until Ruby does her part. Might as well rest up."

Xander looked meaningfully at Willow as everyone stood, stretched, and talked among themselves. "Sandwich. Meat."

"Yeah," she said worriedly. "I know."

* * *

The gist of Sam's plan was to lure both the demons and the angels into a singular location and step back to let the predictable battle ensue. Ruby was off to entice Alastair to the Hellmouth while the rest of them tried to figure out how to bring the angels to the table. Increasingly obnoxious prayers to the "angel of trenchcoats" and the "angel of incredible douchbaggery" went unanswered.

Early in the evening, Buffy noticed Anna and Dean talking outside. She recognized the rather lascivious look in her brother's eyes and saw it mirrored in the ex-angel's. They then proceeded to walk inside, feigned the desire to find separate places to rest, and then, presumably, fell into bed together.

After several minutes of pondering, Buffy caught the despondent expression on Angel's face. Presumably her own face failed to mask her own miserable thoughts; he immediately walked over and wrapped her in his arms. The love between them was no less, but the fact remained that they would never be able to physically express their ardor for one another again.

"Sometimes," the Slayer whispered as she did her best to hold back her tears, "I wish you had never come here."

"Sometimes," Angel murmured as he kissed the top of her head, "I wish that, too."

Their lips met, apprehension tainting the passion that lay thick between them. They relished the feel of one another before regretfully parting. "I will always love you," said the vampire.

"I know." Buffy sighed. "We better get everybody moving soon if we want to be out of town before midnight."

"I'll go find Faith."

"I'll go… hopefully not find Dean naked."

* * *

The others ended up in the basement of the high school; Giles' books were close enough for quick transport while the proximity of the Hellmouth would hopefully hinder any attempts by the angels to scry their location. While all four of them (Xander, Willow, Oz, and Giles) objected to being left behind, Sam rightly pointed out that if his plan went sour their presence would only provide their enemies with either fodder or hostages. Faith and a load of firearms and blades were left with them for additional protection.

It would take Dean, Sam, Buffy, Angel, and Anna around an hour to get to Cachuma Lake where, they hoped, there was enough unpopulated space to weather a possible clash of supernatural powers. As they were driving, Dean related the new ultimatum that Uriel had snuck into his dreams: that it would be _Sam or Buffy_ thrown into the Pit if Anna wasn't handed over. The best recourse, it was decided, was for the ex-angel to play ignorant and the rest of them to affect shock at the revelation. Uriel and his overinflated ego would probably assume that he had won and would therefore be off guard.

Moreover, it was the dark-skinned angel who had apparently taken Anna's Grace. Uriel was apparently strutting around with the gleaming substance displayed in a pendant on his neck like a trophy.

At the lake, Angel broke apart the gate lock to the park entry. They selected a picnic area that was isolated away from the few campers scattered about the woods and proceeded to pretend annoyance at Ruby's supposed demands that they meet her at such an inconvenient place.

Luckily they had some food and distractions. Dean plopped a cooler onto a table while he muttered "stupid demon bitch," then reached in for a beer. He used his thumb to snap the cap at Sam's head. "Hey!"

"Ten points to me," Dean said with a smirk.

Buffy sat down next to the container and pulled bottled water out for herself and Anna. "How long are we going to wait?"

"As long as we need to," Sam replied. He looked questioningly at his brother.

"Hey, she's your Hell-buddy," the eldest of them replied after he'd unplugged himself from his drink.

Their gazes jerked upwards when the dim street lamps set above the benches, turned off during the winter months, suddenly flashed on. The bulbs brightened past their intended spectrum before exploding. A shower of sparks rained down on the two angels that had appeared in their midst: Uriel and Castiel.

"Hello, Anna," the trenchcoated angel said. He was nearly amiable. "It's good to see you."

"How?" Sam asked, feigning shock. "How did you find us?" His eyes snapped over to his brother. "Dean?"

The eldest sibling swallowed and looked sorrowfully at Anna. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" Buffy demanded. She gave her and her brothers all props for their acting skills.

"They gave him a choice," Angel murmured quietly. "They either kill Anna… or kill one of you two."

The ex-angel took a few steps towards Dean before giving him a lingering kiss in farewell. "You did the best you could," she whispered. "I forgive you." The red-headed woman turned towards her former subordinates. "Okay. No more tricks. No more running. I'm ready."

The smug, triumphant smirk on Uriel's face never budged, but Castiel's expression twitched. "I'm sorry," he stated.

"No, you're not," Anna countered. "Not really. You don't know the feeling."

Buffy could have sworn that the angel's blue eyes flicked towards her for a moment. "Still," he vacillated, "we have a history. It's just—"

"Orders are orders. I know. Just make it quick."

From the shadows, a grating, mocking voice called, "Don't you touch a hair on that poor girl's head!"

The siblings and the vampire all inwardly breathed sighs of relief. Out strode Alastair, his hand wrapped around the wrist of a bruised and bleeding Ruby, and several black-eyed lackeys. Sam barely restrained himself from leaping to the female demon's defense. His plan had hinged on her being able to convince Alastair to appear; it seemed that the elder demon had taken the opportunity to practice his art.

Uriel's disgust with the appearance of the hellspawn was blatant. "How dare you into our presence, you pussing sore?"

"Name-calling!" Alastair admonished. "That hurt my feelings… You sanctimonious, fanatical _prick_ ," he added scathingly.

"Turn around and walk away now," warned Castiel.

"Sure. Just give us the girl. We'll make sure she gets punished good and proper."

While the denizens of Heaven and Hell continued to threaten and bluster to each other, Sam, Dean, Buffy, and Angel slowly backed away. Anna, as the object of contention, was unfortunately stuck. Before they could get a good enough distance, however, the encounter turned violent.

Uriel smote one demon immediately, its eyes and mouth exuding a burning red light before the corpse collapsed onto the dirt. Two others then threw a flurry of blows that kept the angel preoccupied.

Castiel went directly for Alastair. He landed a punch on the demon's jaw, stunning him, then slapped the heel of his palm onto the demon's forehead in the same manner as his fellow angel. When nothing happened, Alastair sneered. His opponent, shocked at his own misfire, failed to block the demon's next blow and was sent crashing into a table.

"Sorry, kiddo," the creature commiserated as he grasped the angel's neck. "Why don't you go and run home to daddy?" He placed his own hand on Castiel's forehead and began to harshly chant in Latin, " _Potestas inferma, me confirma!"_ The angel's eyes and mouth began to emit a bright, white gleam as his vessel convulsed.

" _Potestas inferma, me confi_ —eh?" Alastair cut himself off when someone tapped him on the back.

"Hi!" Buffy said cheerfully before swinging the massive tree branch she'd scrounged and sending the demon flying. Her brothers withdrew handguns and chased after him.

The Slayer held out a hand to the dazed angel. He grasped it warily as she asked, "You okay?"

"Yes."

"Good." Castiel suddenly found his lapels grabbed and his face yanked down. "Now," Buffy snarled when they were nose to nose, "either we spend some time right now acquainting your face with my fist or you help your former boss get her mojo back."

More puzzled than unnerved, Castiel merely wondered, "Why?"

"You said you two had a history. That means you cared for her at some point. I don't know if that meant you two were bumping uglies or if you were talking about your whole garrison thingy, but if you've got a shred of decency then you won't do this."

"I have my orders."

"Are you kidding me? Did you not hear me make with the threat of bloodied nose?"

" _I have my orders."_

The repetition was tinged with desperation. Buffy released the angel and wondered why insubordination was punished so harshly among the Heavenly Host. "I'll stop you."

"You can try." Over the girl's shoulder, Castiel saw Anna sneaking over to where Uriel was busy fending off the last of the demons. At the same moment, however, Alastair gave Dean a final punch to the face and dropped him, groaning, onto the ground (Sam was prostrate a few feet away). Hell's Grand Torturer then eagerly set his sights on his desired victim and began marching towards Anna.

"I don't have time for this," Castiel said irritably. He reached out with his fingers to incapacitate the Slayer. Having anticipated the move, Buffy snatched the angel's wrist and promptly tossed him into the dirt. Without giving him time to recover, the Slayer picked up her club and continued her assault.

Alastair had nearly reached Anna when a monstrous growl alerted the woman. She snapped her head around just as Angel, his face distorted, came between her and the demon and swung his fist into the thing's face.

Alastair stumbled, chuckling. "Oh, Angelus," he purred as he wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of his lips. "I would have thought after all that time we had together you'd be happier to see me."

"Yeah?" the vampire retorted. "Think again," he added as he threw another punch.

Dean finally managed to push his face off the dirt, Alastair's mocking words ringing in his ears. The ubiquitous disgust the hunter constantly directed inwards seemed amplified tenfold by the demon's presence. His body felt sluggish, weighed down by more than just the bruises that had been inflicted. Everything in him wanted to lie back down in the dirt and wait for oblivion, but Dean knew his brother and his sister needed him to move.

Before he could get fully upright, however, there was the tinkling sound of glass shattering. Anna screamed, " _Shut your eyes!"_ and a painful white light scorched the air. Lightning snapped around them as the ex-angel's Grace floated up from its broken prison and slid between her lips.

After a deafening boom, Anna was gone. Alastair and the demons' vessels had disintegrated, the debris showering down into the dirt. The Kurdish knife, hidden in the pocket of Hell's Grand Torturer, clattered onto a table. Those that were left glared at the two remaining celestial beings.

"Well, what are you guys waiting for?" sneered Dean. "Go get Anna. Unless, of course, you're _scared_."

"This isn't over," Uriel snarled.

"Oh, it looks over to me, junkless." A rush of wings later and the pair was gone.

Most of those that remained commiserated over bruises and congratulated Sam on the success of his plan. Angel, however, drew Dean off to one side. "So he's really topside," the vampire said quietly.

"Yeah."

"Don't do anything stupid."

"Like what?"

Angel lifted an eyebrow. "What do you think?"

"Man," Dean sighed, "you really think I want to go chasing after that son of a bitch? We don't got the Colt, demon knife did fuck-all. I ain't _that_ suicidal yet."

The vampire nodded, his brow creasing from worry. He placed a hand on the hunter's shoulder. "Dean…"

"Don't, okay?" Dean jerked himself away. "Just fucking don't." After a final, pleading glare, Buffy's eldest brother strode back to the others. The vampire shook his head in consternation before following.

"So, I guess she's some big-time angel now, huh?" Sam was saying. "She must be happy… Wherever she is."

"I doubt it," Dean mumbled.

"Ugh," Buffy moaned as she pulled leaves from her hair. "I _so_ need, like, an hour's soak in the tub."

Ruby swiped dried blood from her arm. "For once I'm with blondie."

"Well," Sam said as he rubbed the back of his hair. A puff of dirt floated out from the strands. "We can head on back, get cleaned up. Then we need to hit the road."

"What?" his sister complained. "Why?"

"The seals. We need to get back to looking for them."

"Fine." Buffy pouted. "Can you at least try and come back in a week for my birthday?"

The group began heading back towards the Impala. "Maybe," Dean said. "Long as there's beer."

"I'm turning _eighteen_."

"Perfect age to start drinkin'."

* * *

The meeting taking place at Town Hall was unusual in terms of both the hour and its participants; government officials rarely met with representatives of the Heavenly Host past midnight.

"Now I'm not happy about this, not one bit!" the Mayor scolded. He emphasized his displeasure by stabbing a finger at his desk. "There was a plan made and you bungled it up! If I didn't know any better I would say that you weren't up for the task."

"You _dare_ —"

"You're damn right I do, you weak, brainless, _sorry_ excuse for an angel!" Wilkins roared.

Uriel glowered, his teeth audibly grinding together. His alliance with the thing before him had been sanctioned by his superiors, but being in its filthy presence made him want to vomit. It stank of the unholy rituals it had undertaken, for what reason the angel couldn't say, and it stank of _humanity_. For the thousandth time, Uriel wondered what possessed their Father to ask his children to bow down before such putrid animals.

The angel also had reason to be cautious; with the eminent arrival of the Abomination, the creature's power was growing exponentially. Already it was at a level that Uriel would be hard pressed to defeat. Given a few more months and the blasphemous thing might be capable of easily taking down the weaker of his brothers and sisters.

In an alarming change of demeanor, the Mayor began chuckling. "Now, now, let's not be rude to one another. We decided to cooperate because our goals aligned, yes? And I'm assuming they still do." He popped open a small glass container. "Lemon drop?"

When Uriel deigned to respond, Wilkins tossed a candy into his own mouth. "You know, I think there's not a single situation that _isn't_ made better with something tasty and sweet. Now," he continued as he noisily crunched up his treat, "we failed to get that Grace, but there are others just waiting to be scooped up."

"You ask me to mutilate my brothers and sisters."

"No, of course not!" Wilkins swallowed his candy. "Just one!" he added cheerfully.

Rage swept across Uriel's face before stoicism asserted itself. "Very well. But only so you will be certain the seal around the Slayer is broken."

"I have _never_ broken a campaign promise, Uriel," the Mayor admonished. "Don't worry. I'll see to it that one of those little girls does as she's supposed to."

Without further conversation, the angel departed. Wilkins huffed out an indignant, "How very impolite! Centuries away from Earth and their manners need some severe readjustment."

From the corner darkness emerged a vampire in an immaculate suit. He adjusted his lapels. "Give me the right tools and I'll see to it."

"Unfortunately, Mr. Trick," the Mayor sighed, "my resources to tackle that particular job are sadly lacking. Besides, there are two issues with that suggestion, the first being that you and yours are a little too… combustible to go against the might of Heaven."

"Can't argue with that."

Wilkins gave his underling a knowing smirk. "The second is that those ill-mannered boys will get their lesson fairly soon. You see, their big brother is on the way back home, and he has no tolerance for such disrespect. I'm fairly certain most of them are in for quite a spanking." He held out his glass bowl. "Lemon drop?"

* * *

 **Acknowledgement** : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episode, "Heaven and Hell" (SPN 4.10).

 **Author's note** : The original episode of "Heaven and Hell" didn't include the whole light thingy when Alastair tried to exorcise Cass, but seeing as how it showed up two episodes later I figured I'd retcon it.


	50. Book III: Chapter 50

(10/7/2008) Mostly phone conversations this time. Getting to a point in both seasons where things are getting super personal.

I'm planning a major change to the end of Buffy Season 3 and the fate of the Mayor. Please don't kill me.

Thank you **demon19027** , **thedarkpokemaster** , **jkmp28** , **RHatch89** , and **philly cheese dude** for the reviews! And all you favoriters and followers get puppies!

* * *

( _Phone call from Quentin Travers to Dean Winchester_ )

QUENTIN: Good evening, Mr. Winchester. My name is Quentin Travers and I am the head of the Watcher's Council.

DEAN: Well, la-dee-frickin'-da, your highness. What the hell do you want?

QUENTIN: Yes, I've been informed of your rather… unique personality. I'm calling to request that you refrain from visiting the Slayer for the next few days.

DEAN: What? Why?

QUENTIN: There is an important ritual that occurs when a Slayer— _if_ a Slayer reaches her eighteenth birthday. I feel, unfortunately, that you and your brother would cause undue interference.

DEAN: Well, that's just load of horsesh—

QUENTIN: We would also request that you refrain from contacting your sister via mobile messaging or any other electronic means until after the nineteenth. Any sort of communications from you or your brother will be seen as an intrusion on our work.

DEAN: What the fuck—

QUENTIN: Do not make me repeat myself, Mr. Winchester. You and your brother will stay away from the Hellmouth for the next thirty six hours or we will be forced to inform the authorities of both the lack of veracity regarding your supposed deaths in Colorado and your current whereabouts. I doubt you could do much of anything from a federal prison.

DEAN: …Fine.

QUENTIN: Good. I'm glad that's settled. I appreciate your cooperation in this matter.

DEAN: You can shove your appreciation up your English ass, you prick. If something happens to our sister I will rip your fucking head off and shit down your neck!

QUENTIN: Very colorful, Mr. Winchester. Good day.

* * *

( _Phone call from Sam Winchester to Buffy Summers_ )

SAM: Is everything okay? Dean told me not to call until after your birthday. What's going on?

BUFFY: Nothing. Don't worry about it.

SAM: Dean is totally freaked out. Some dude named San Quentin called and told us to stay away.

BUFFY: ( _baffled tone_ ) San Quentin? You mean Quentin Travers?

SAM: Yeah, he wasn't too sure what it was.

BUFFY: Ugh, I don't wanna talk about it.

SAM: You sure? Because Dean's getting ready to go back to California, like, now.

BUFFY: Basically they put me through some stupid test with a stupid result and nearly got me killed. Oh, and then they fired Giles.

SAM: What the hell?

BUFFY: Right? But it's over now. Let's move on.

SAM: If you're sure…

BUFFY: ( _deep sigh_ ) Right now all I want to do is go put on my comfy jammies, veg out in front of the TV, and forget that I have birthdays because _apparently_ they're all gonna suck.

SAM: As long as you're all right.

BUFFY: I'll be fine. Thanks for calling.

SAM: All right. Love you.

BUFFY: Love you guys, too.

* * *

 _February 2008_

* * *

( _Phone call from Joyce Summers to Sam Winchester_ )

JOYCE: Hello, Sam.

SAM: Oh, hey Joyce! What's up?

JOYCE: Listen. I've decided that it is no longer appropriate for Buffy to be involved with… well, with the sort of inappropriate things you get tangled up in.

SAM: Uh, what?

JOYCE: You and Dean! Demons, ghosts, all of those awful things! It's not right that a young girl should be exposed to these sorts of things.

SAM: Are you okay?

JOYCE: Oh, Sam. ( _deep sigh_ ) The other mothers have joined with me to form Mothers Opposed to the Occult. M-O-O.

SAM: ( _disbelievingly_ ) …Moo?

JOYCE: Yes. Two children were murdered last week by a deranged someone that was obviously involved with the occult. It's time someone took a stand to make certain that our town is safe!

SAM: Listen, Joyce, something really sounds wrong with all of this.

JOYCE: You're darn right it does! I'm sick of worrying whether or not some monster or-or-or witch or demon is going to come flying in and kill another child! We are going to make sure all of these unhealthy elements are stamped out.

SAM: You… You do know you're on top of a Hellmouth, right? And that your daughter is the Slayer?

JOYCE: Precisely! There's no doubt that has something to do with all of this.

SAM: Uh, what are you talking about?

JOYCE: We are no longer going to just sit idly by while there are witches and demons and Slayers about. We're going to do something about it. Just stay away from here! ( _ends call_ )

( _3 hours later…_ )

SAM: Joyce? What's going on? Is everything—

JOYCE: Oh, Sam. I am so, so sorry. There were these spirits and they made me think—well, that doesn't really matter, but I almost… ( _deep sigh_ ) Thank goodness Giles got there in time and that Buffy knew what to do because of her time with you and her father—

SAM: Whoa whoa whoa, slow down. ( _to Dean_ ) Hey, we can turn around. Everything's okay now.

DEAN: ( _in the background_ ) You sure?

SAM: ( _into the phone_ ) You guys found the bones, right? Did the salt and burn?

JOYCE: Yes, yes of course. Just ignore what I said before. If it weren't for you all teaching Buffy what to do—

SAM: Hey, no worries, Joyce. Just be careful next time, okay?

JOYCE: ( _relieved sigh_ ) I will. Don't worry. Thank you, Sam.

SAM: Hey, no problem. Tell Buffy to give us a ring when she's got a chance.

JOYCE: I will.

* * *

 _March 2008_

* * *

 **The Greybull Gazette**

Shooting Victim Walks Away Unharmed _Man miraculously survives after direct shot to heart_

Police and medical authorities are struggling for an explanation as to why local resident James Jenkins was able to walk away from a point-blank shooting incident. After leaving Bison Bud's Bar, Mr. Jenkins and friend Pete Hensley were confronted by a mugger in a nearby alley. After a brief altercation, the mugger fired a shot from a 9mm automatic hitting Jenkins directly in the heart.

When emergency responders arrived on the scene Jenkins was injured but alert with no signs of trauma at the entry area of the bullet. Investigators are looking into the possibility that the mugger may have been using blanks and that the injury may be psychosomatic.

* * *

( _Phone call from Xander Harris to Dean Winchester_ )

DEAN: Uh, hello?

XANDER: ( _overly cheerful_ ) Hi, Dean! It's Xander!

DEAN: How the hell did you get my phone number?

XANDER: Stole it off of Giles' phone. He never locks it. Um, anyways, I-I-I could use some advice.

DEAN: From _me?_

XANDER: Maybe?

DEAN: I got no clue what kind of advice I could give you.

XANDER: You've… You've had sex, right?

DEAN: Dude, if you're calling me for the frigging birds and the bees talk…

XANDER: ( _nervous giggle_ ) No. No, of course not.

DEAN: Good, because I had no freaking clue what to say.

XANDER: You ever have a girl shove you out of the room right afterwards? Like, _right_ afterwards. Like, underpants are on but the rest is in a pile in your arms.

DEAN: Uh, no, not that I remember.

XANDER: Oh. Okay.

DEAN: The hell happened to you?

XANDER: Me? Not me, no sir. Just asking for… a friend! Yup.

DEAN: Yeah, okay. ( _ends the call_ ) Dork.

* * *

( _Phone call from Sam Winchester to Buffy Summers_ )

BUFFY: Y'ello.

SAM: Buffy.

BUFFY: What's up, overgrown brother of mine?

SAM: Dean's in the hospital.

BUFFY: Again?

SAM: It's serious.

BUFFY: Again?

SAM: Cut it out.

BUFFY: Sorry. What happened?

SAM: ( _deep sigh_ ) Uriel and Castiel showed up randomly after a hunt and pretty much kidnapped him. They wanted him to… to use what he learned from Alastair _on_ Alastair.

BUFFY: What the hell?

SAM: Pretty much what I thought. Anyways, I'm not really sure what went down but the devil's trap broke and Alastair got out.

BUFFY: Oh God.

SAM: Yeah, Dean's really messed up, and so was Cass. I got there in time, but… anyways, I don't know what Alastair said to him but Dean won't talk to me. We were figuring maybe you could try.

BUFFY: "We"? We who?

SAM: Cass and me.

BUFFY: Okay, I'm willing to try. Put him on the phone.

SAM: Uh, that's the thing. We don't want to give him the chance to shut you down.

BUFFY: Sam, I'm in California. At school. Between classes. Pretty sure you're somewhere that has more cows than people. I don't know what you expect me to do from here.

SAM: Well… Um…

BUFFY: ( _flapping sounds_ ) _Cass?_ What're you doing—oh, hell no we aren't… ( _unintelligible words from Castiel_ ) Don't you touch me, don't you touch me, don't you _dare_ —

* * *

 **Acknowledgement** : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episode, "Death Takes a Holiday" (SPN 4.15).


	51. Book III: Chapter 51

(10/23/2017) I got a cold, the cold went away, and then everything north of me caught on fire, smoke came and made everything smoky, and the cold made a comeback. That was fun.

I'm kicking Adam to the curb. Just couldn't find a good way to get him involved. Sorry! :( At least he won't be moldering in the Cage for a gazillion years.

Thank you **thedarkpokemaster** , **missmeow1968** , **demon19027** , **Sage of Wind Dragons** , **RHatch89** , **jkmp28** , **philly cheese dude** , **IoSolUno** , and **Sal** the guest for the reviews! And all you favoriters and followers get sexy firefighters!

* * *

The first thing Buffy did (after snapping her phone shut) was to repeatedly smack Castiel on the arm. "This. Is. For. _Kidnapping me_!"

"I do not see how bringing you here on the request of your family is considered 'kidnapping.'"

Sam sighed and laid a hand on his sister's arm before she could make further retorts. "He's in there," he said, looking at the closed door on his right. "I'll make sure Cass brings you back right afterwards, okay?"

Buffy glared at the angel for a moment more before steeling herself for whatever might be in that room. Through the shuttered windows she could see the outlines of the myriad tubes and devices that had been hooked up to her eldest brother which meant that whatever injuries he'd sustained were more serious than usual. She hesitated, her hand hovering over the doorknob.

"Wait a second," Buffy suddenly said. She snapped around and resumed glowering at Castiel. "Aren't you all heavenly and powerful and all of that? Couldn't you just, I dunno, poke him with your fingers and make it all better?"

Her eyebrows shot up when the angel cast Sam an irritated look. Sam returned it with interest. "Yeah, Cass. Mind offering more of an explanation?"

"No," Castiel stated.

"Ugh, forget it!" Buffy grumbled as she turned the doorknob and marched into Dean's room.

It was midday but the space was dark, the curtains having ostensibly been pulled to allow the patient to sleep. Even so, Buffy could see that her brother's eyes were open and pointed at the edge of his bed staring blankly at nothing.

Dean looked terrible. Cuts and bruises were liberally strewn across his face and arms, most of them covered in bandages. The skin that was exposed had ugly black, blue, and purple hues. Everything imaginable had been hooked up to him (at least to Buffy's eyes) with at least two bags of something feeding into the IV on his hand. Wondrously, there appeared not to be any broken bones; at least there were no casts or splints.

Buffy pulled up the visitor's chair and sat down. "Dean?" Her brother shifted slightly and, as far as his tubes would allow, turned away.

"Dean," she repeated, "you know how irritating I can get if you ignore me. And since you're not going to be able to move anytime soon…"

With that threat in the air, Buffy waited. After a few minutes, Dean's chest and shoulders lifted and dropped in a heavy sigh and he turned back around. "How'd they get you here?" he asked hoarsely.

"Cass did his zapping thingy. I got to miss a quiz and everything." Her brother grunted, acknowledging the quip, but said nothing more. "What's wrong?"

"Everything. Nothin'. Nothin' you can do anything about."

"Try me," Buffy said gamely. "Go." When Dean remained silent, she added, "Wanna hear the most annoying sound in the world?"

"For fuck's sake," he muttered to himself. Then, clearer, said, "Alastair told me… told me I broke the first seal."

Still disoriented from her abrupt departure from school, Buffy wracked her brain for a moment to put that comment in context. "On Lucifer's Cage?"

"Yes."

"He's a _demon_. Demon's lie. You guys always told me that."

"Cass said it was true."

"Oh." Angels, so far as Buffy knew, _didn't_ lie. At least she was fairly certain Castiel was unfamiliar with the concept; she wouldn't put anything past Uriel. "So?"

"Cass said…" Dean swallowed, choking back tears of despair. "Cass said I started it, now I gotta finish it. And I… I'm pretty sure we're all fucked."

"Why?"

Dean huffed out a few derisive chuckles. "Look at me! Do I look like someone who's gonna save the day? Have I ever been anyone's big hero?"

"You've been mine."

Taken aback, Dean stared at his sister and looked for the sarcasm, the joke. To his surprise she was in earnest, though her next words blunted the swelling panic he felt at having to meet her expectations. "I mean, sure," she said, "you drink too much, you don't shower enough, and you dress like a hobo, but, hey, you're still my big brother. We should all aspire to be a stinky, fashion-handicapped lush."

"Midget."

"Butthead."

For a few moments the pair was silent. Dean wrestled between the comfort he felt at being loved despite his failures and the misery of being forced into the role of savior. "Why me?"

"God, I ask that every day," Buffy sighed.

Dean managed a wry chuckle. "Yeah, you would, wouldn't you?"

To his slightly painful surprise, his sister then leaped out of her chair and gave him a big hug. "It'll be okay, Dean," she whispered in his ear. "I promise."

"Yeah," he replied as a few treacherous tears escaped.

* * *

Buffy suddenly realized, quite alarmingly, that she was standing in someone's corner office wearing a pencil skirt, heels, and a blouse; and Dean, a completely _healthy_ Dean (who was dressed in a really expensive-looking button up and _suspenders_ ), was complaining, "What the hell? Why am I wearing a tie? My God, am I hungry!"

"Uh," Buffy managed. She looked down and found a multitude of printouts and manila folders strewn about her feet. "I have paper-cuts."

"Welcome back, you two!" cheered the portly, middle-aged man standing between them.

"Wait," said Dean. "Did I… Did I just get touched by… You're an angel, aren't you?"

"I'm Zachariah," the man announced with a smarmy grin.

Buffy immediately planted her fist in his face. "How _dare_ you go messing with our heads," she snarled.

After stumbling a step, Zachariah straightened and calmly reached into an inner jacket pocket for a handkerchief. He wiped away a small cut on his lip. "Unlike my brothers," the angel said calmly, "I don't tolerate these sorts of outbursts." He snapped his fingers.

Buffy shrieked and collapsed onto the floor. She felt down her leg and found a bone protruding from her thigh.

Dean immediately rounded the desk and charged Zachariah. The angel lifted one imperious finger and brought him to a halt. "I broke her leg, not her neck. Let that sink in for a second."

Once he was certain both humans were complaisant, Zachariah's smile returned. "There! I'm glad we could all be civil. Now. Let's get back to introductions. I'm Zachariah, Castiel's superior, and after the unfortunate situation with Uriel I felt it necessary to pay a visit. Get my ducks in a row."

"So, what," Buffy said through gritted teeth, "you just monkey-suit us and make us run through some kind of stupid imaginary ghosting?"

"Not at all. Real place, real haunting. Just plunked you in the middle without the benefit of your memories."

"What for?" Dean demanded.

"To prove to the both of you that what destiny chose for you is correct. You're a hunter." The angel looked down at the floor. "You're the Slayer. Not because your dad made you, not because you were magically plucked out of the pool of Potentials, but because it's what you both are. And you _love it_. You'll find your way back to your paths every single time, and you're _miserable_ without it. Dean, Buffy, let's be real here." His gaze turned triumphant. "You're good at this. You'll be successful. You will both stop it."

"Both?" Buffy asked incredulously.

"Of course!" Zachariah spread his arms. "You'll go out there and save people, maybe even the world. All the while you'll go to school, make kissy faces with your vampire while your brother drives a classic car and fornicates with women. You're not cursed. You're gifted."

Dean's face twisted in rage. "What kind of stupid —"

"For God's sakes, Dean," Zachariah snapped, "quit whining about it. For that matter, you—" he said as he pointed at Buffy, "—need to accept your calling. Look around. There are plenty of fates worse than either of yours. So are you with me? You wanna go steam yourself another latte?" He turned to Buffy. "Go copy some more reports? Or are the two of you ready to stand up and be who you really are?"

Neither sibling answered. Zachariah stuck his hands in his pockets and gave a deep sigh. "I can see both of you are going to be quite the project. That's okay. I'm always up for a challenge." He snapped his fingers again…

* * *

All three siblings stared at one another from across the dining table at 1630 Revello Drive. "Weren't we just in Wyoming?" asked a bewildered Sam. "At a hospital?"

"You don't remember?" Dean wondered.

"Remember what?"

"You rocking the yellow collared shirt?" Buffy asked. "And being, like, a total dork?"

"Uh… no. Yellow shirt?" Sam repeated confusedly.

Dean and Buffy related the previous few days' events including Dean's occupation in upper management, Buffy's role as an intern and secretary, and Sam's as a tech support cubicle jockey. Their brother listened, flabbergasted, to how a haunting had led to their reunion, albeit as coworkers and not siblings, and how yet another angel, Zachariah, was responsible for the misadventure.

"Great," Sam groused at the conclusion of their tale. "Another douchebag with wings."

"He's also Castiel's superior," Dean added. "So I got no idea what that means."

"It means," said a voice that immediately followed the flapping of his wings, "that you need to be very careful around him."

The trio of humans jumped but recovered quickly; they were grudgingly beginning to get used to Castiel's sudden, unannounced appearances. "Maybe one day he'll ring the doorbell," Buffy grumbled to her brothers.

"What're you talking about, Cass?" asked Sam.

"If I am captain of our garrison," explained the angel, "then I suppose you could call him a corporal."

"And?"

"Should he order me to kill you, I must do it."

The room went silent. Buffy preemptively clenched her fists. "Is that why you're here?" she growled.

"No." Castiel had the temerity to look somewhat offended by the accusation. "I came to warn you. Uriel is dead. He was the one who was killing the angels."

"What?" gaped Sam. "Why?"

"It seems some of my brothers and sisters have decided that it is in our best interests if Lucifer were freed. They may attempt to prevent you from stopping Lilith."

"Oh, what the hell, man?" Dean exclaimed, astonished. "Like we don't got enough on our plate as it is!"

"What are we supposed to do if they come?" Buffy asked irritably. "Pray really, really hard that they don't just beat the crap out of us?"

"No," Castiel countered, "pray to me. I will come."

Mollified by the prospect of having a literal angel at her beck and call, Buffy grinned. "Neat."

Castiel gave her a withering look. "Do not abuse the privilege," he warned. A rush of wings later and he was gone.

Buffy drew breath to try to test their newfound calling ability. She nearly choked on it when Sam snapped, "Don't."

"Buzzkill."

Dean had drifted to the dining room window. He let out a sigh of relief upon seeing the Impala resting in the driveway. "Well, at least Zachariah was decent enough to bring my baby all the way over here. Doesn't make him any less of a dick."

"What now?" Sam wondered.

"Your mom home?" Dean asked his sister.

Buffy pulled her phone out of her pocket. "What the—it's still that Friday! Weren't we corporate slaves for, like, four days?"

"Frigging angels."

"And, no, mom was heading to New York last— _this_ morning for work. So she's not back until next Tuesday."

Buffy's brothers glanced at one another. "Mind if we stay for a few days?" Sam asked.

"Eh, why not. Long as you're springing for food."

"Burgers and pizza it is," Dean announced happily.

"Ugh," Buffy grumbled. "There goes my waistline."

"Lost cause. Ow! Frigging midget!"

"Butthead."

* * *

Monday arrived and brought with it a multitude of early acceptance letters for Willow from a host of Ivy League colleges, including Sam's alma mater, Stanford. He did his best to smile and congratulate the young girl, but his heart wrenched in jealousy of her prospects. Seeing that the far taller man's expression didn't quite reach his eyes, Oz carefully stacked his girlfriend's envelopes and put them away. He then suggested that they maybe take their celebration from the confines of the school to the sugary-caffeinated haven of the closest Starbucks.

Buffy and her brothers, however, declined. They'd made an appointment to confer with Giles regarding angelic hierarchy. Bobby had come up with nothing, but the siblings hoped that the ex-Watcher's extensive collection of obscure tomes might have, at the very least, some information on Zachariah.

Sam was the first one to notice that Giles wasn't alone in the library (Dean had gleefully flipped Buffy's well-maintained locks on their walk over and the two were engaged in a mock slap fight). He came to an abrupt stop, interrupting Dean's concentration and causing the eldest of them to receive an actual full-contact smack.

"Oops!" Buffy exclaimed.

Dean angrily rubbed the side of his jaw and glared at Sam. "The fuck you—oh," he said as he noticed the prim and proper young gentleman standing next to Giles. "What the hell is that?"

"Dunno," Sam replied as the newcomer began looking indignant. "New Watcher?"

"New Watcher," confirmed an exasperated Giles.

From the moment they'd met the elder man the Winchesters had felt comfortable relying on his expertise. They had even grown to admire his steadfast bravery in the face of increasingly harrowing circumstances. Not only that, Giles was affable, and deeply sympathetic to the tragedies surrounding his Slayer and her family. The new Watcher, however, looked younger than Sam and carried himself in a haughty manner that immediately grated on Dean's nerves.

Meeting an overprivileged intellectual was nothing new to Sam; enough had attended Stanford that he was familiar with their mannerisms. Therefore when the man stuck his hand out and announced, "Wesley Wyndham-Pryce," Sam generously returned the gesture.

"Sam Winchester," he replied.

"Yes, of course," Wesley said with a nod. "Which would make this other gentleman, Dean."

The hand was extended again in the eldest brother's direction. Dean ignored it and shouldered passed the new Watcher with purposeful rudeness. "Jeeves," the hunter said to Giles, "you got anything on an angel named Zachariah?"

"Zachariah?" repeated the librarian. "Isn't that the name of a prophet?"

While Dean spun out the sordid tale of their days shackled to a corporation, Sam apologized to Wesley. "I'm sorry. He's just… Well…" He glanced helplessly at his sister.

Unfortunately Buffy had her arms crossed in a forbidding manner. She narrowed her eyes. "Are you evil?"

"Evil?" Wesley parroted, confused.

"The last one was evil."

"Oh, yes. Gwendolyn Post. We all heard." The Watcher have a lugubrious sigh. "No, Mr. Giles has checked my credentials rather thoroughly and phoned the Council, but I'm glad to see you're on the ball as well. A good Slayer is a cautious Slayer," he added pedantically.

"You think he's evil?" Buffy asked Sam.

"Probably not."

"You sure?"

"Got holy water in the car if you're that worried ."

"That won't be necessary, thank you," Wesley said with barely concealed exasperation. "As I'm sure none of us is anxious to waste any time on pleasantries, why don't you tell me everything about last night's patrol?"

"Didn't go," Buffy stated.

The young man's eyebrows drew together. "Care to explain why not?"

"His fault," said the Slayer as she stuck a thumb out at her younger brother's direction.

Sam exclaimed, "Hey!" as Wesley plowed into a lecture regarding her negligence and the possible consequences of a night on the Hellmouth without its guardian acting as a safeguard from the minions of Hell. Buffy's eyes glazed over, and even Sam's attention started to wander, as the speech veered into repetitiveness and unwarranted scolding.

Fortunately for them, the library doors banged open. Wesley cut off his sentence and adjusted his spectacles. "This is perhaps Faith?" he wondered.

The dark-haired Slayer ignored the query. "New Watcher?" she asked the rest of the group.

Buffy, her brothers, and her former Watcher all repeated, "New Watcher."

"Screw that," Faith scoffed before turning on her heel and leaving the same way she arrived.

The remaining Slayer lifted her arms and let them drop as she walked over to Giles and Dean. "Now why didn't _I_ just say that?"

With a pitying look over at the indignant newcomer, Giles gently said to his former protege, "Buffy, would you…?"

The teenaged girl sighed. "I'll see if I can get her back. Don't say anything terribly interesting while I'm gone!" she called as she hustled after her counterpart.

"They'll get used to me," Wesley said definitively.

"Fat chance," Dean muttered.

Wesley harrumphed. "I'll have you know that I was handpicked by none other than Mr. Travers himself, and—"

"Wait, Travers?" Dean stepped up to the Watcher. They were of a height, but he still managed to loom threateningly. "That shithead that was here for Buffy's birthday?"

The younger man attempted to mimic the hunter's hostile stance and fell far short. "The head of the Watcher's Council, yes. A man of immense authority and knowledge."

"And we're supposed to trust our baby sister to some uptight kid that takes his orders from someone that nearly got her freaking *killed?*"

"I'll have you know that the Cruciatum is a time honored ritual of great importance that dates back _centuries_ and has been a vital part of a Slayer's training under the Council!"

"Oh, bullshit," Dean snarled. "You're just a bunch of pansy-ass dicks that get a hard-on from bossing around a little girl!"

"Dean," Sam cautioned as Giles mumbled, "Sounds about right."

Wesley's spine stiffened. "We have been the authoritative figure around the Slayer since _before_ the Middle Ages. And I believe we are _far_ more qualified to watch over her than some bumbling idiot who thinks it's a good idea to make a crossroads deal for a _single year._ Tell me, how _exactly_ were you protecting your little sister by being condemned to Hell?"

Dean frowned and stepped back. Wesley's chin rose, certain that he'd come out the dignified victor from their harsh repartee. It only gave the hunter a clearer target for his fist.

Giles sighed as the young Watcher's head snapped to one side. The young man then collapsed into a boneless heap. "Can't say that wasn't well deserved," said the librarian.

Dean cocked an eyebrow at his brother. Sam lifted his hands. "Not gonna say a thing. I was just trying to be nice to the guy."

"So!" Giles said. "Zachariah?"

"Yeah," Dean confirmed.

"Well, let's see what we can find."

"What about…?" Sam wondered as he gestured at Wesley's prone form.

"He looks quite comfortable where he's at."

Neither brother objected to the sentiment.

* * *

 **Acknowledgement** : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episodes "It's a Terrible Life" (SPN 4.17) and "Bad Girls" (BtVS 3.14).

 **Author's Note** : The name Zachariah shows up as a prophet who apparently fathered John; John of the "I Wrote the Bible" fame.


	52. Book III: Chapter 52

(11/7/2017) I think I need to commit to one update a _month_ rather than once a week like I did before. I straight up do not have the extra brainpower after dealing with hordes of small children three days a week (and a highly energetic one 24/7). Oh, and our new puppy. I'm besieged by small creatures.

Thank you **willdawg992003** , **thedarkpokemaster** , **demon19027** , **Timelord2162** , **RHatch89** , **Sage of Wind Dragons** , **philly cheese dude** , and **IoSolUno** for the reviews! And all you favoriters and followers get puppies!

Oh, and **NakedFury**? …Thanks?

* * *

As usual, they ended up at a dead end where it concerned the angels. Apparently the stories of Zachariah's presence on Earth had been transfigured over the years. Where they knew there was a high ranking angel, scripture had a childless prophet who was granted a son in exchange for his piety. Something had gone far, far off the mark over the centuries.

The siblings thought they might actually have a quiet, non-extraordinarily hazardous stay together. After all, Zachariah appeared to hold both Dean and Buffy in high regard. It was unlikely that he would allow harm to come to either, at least not purposely, and with Alastair dead there was one less demon to worry about.

It all began feeling relatively normal, however, when Sam discovered a job in town.

* * *

Joyce flew back in Tuesday morning. Despite the horrific traffic, Dean generously picked her up from Los Angeles International Airport While Sam sprung for Chinese takeout. The unconventional little family then shared fried rice, chow mein, and a variety of exotically flavored meats.

Buffy's mother was slightly perturbed, however, by Sam's choice to focus more on his laptop than on their get together. "Really, Sam," Joyce chided. "Must you?"

"Sorry," he said, somewhat apologetically and somewhat absentmindedly. "I thought I saw a case right before I got the food and I can't remember what it was."

Dean gave a derisive snort. "We're on the Hellmouth, Sammy. Probably a couple'a vamps having a midnight snack over by The Bronze."

"No, it was something more… weird."

"That's our town," Buffy quipped. "Weirdness is soaked into the dirt. And fortune cookie, gimme!"

"Didn't say the magic word," mocked Dean as he held the wrapped sweet just out of her reach.

" _Now_."

As her daughter and pseudo-stepson squabbled over the confections, Joyce noticed that Sam had stopped typing and was looking assiduously at his screen. "Find it?"

"Yes." The young man swiveled his computer around so Joyce could read.

"'Spontaneous Combustion in Nursing Home.' Well that's certainly unusual."

"Old people exploding?" Dean asked through a mouthful of cookie. "Sounds fun."

Buffy was peering at the tiny writing on her fortune. "'You will meet exotic new people.' Pfff. I've got all the exotic new people I could ever handle what with angels and demons and whoever's making with the charbroiled grandparents."

"'George Levinson, 72, was discovered early Monday morning at the Sunnyhill Retirement Home,'" read Sam. "'Caretakers were alerted to what they assumed had been a fire emergency only to find Levinson had been set alight in his bed by persons unknown. Investigators have reported no signs of accelerant and are continuing to process the scene.'" He closed the computer. "Witch?"

"Sounds like it," affirmed Dean.

"Or… Or it could be something else," Buffy offered, irked that Willow was still insisting that the Slayer not reveal to her brothers how deeply she was delving into the mystic arts. "Maybe a fire breathing chicken."

Sam peered at her, incredulous. "Seriously? That's what you come up with?"

"Tell me that isn't the weirdest thing you've ever heard of."

"Wishing well, dude," Dean told his brother. "The Trickster and his bullshit. That damn rabbit's foot."

"Fine, whatever," Sam conceded. He stood up from the table. "Tomorrow morning?"

"Sounds good to me."

* * *

Buffy begged to accompany her brothers but Joyce was adamant that she not miss any more school than she already had. With her senior year coming to a rapid close, Buffy's mother held out hope that, despite all the nonsense with Heaven and Hell, her daughter might someday go to a college worth bragging about. As the Slayer had doubts as to whether or not she'd live long enough to get a Bachelor's of Anything (a thought she would _never_ express in front of her mother), the order sent her off in the morning in a dour mood.

Her brothers had stayed the night at Angel's, their de facto home whenever they visited Sunnydale. Impeccably dressed in cheap suits and armed with FBI identifications, the pair spent the morning first introducing themselves to the lead detective, then questioning residents at Sunnyhill Retirement Home. They discovered two important details from the elderly men and women: that Levinson had been a sadistic, manipulative degenerate, and that he had recently been accused of sexually assaulting an aide.

They questioned the victim's victim, Maria Sanchez, a Spanish speaking woman whose slight frame and cowering demeanor made the possibility that her story of being overpowered by the spry septuagenarian was not the elaborate fabrication touted by her bosses. She wept piteously when confronted, but neither Sam or Dean found reason to suspect she'd used supernatural methods to get her revenge.

"Well that sucked," Dean grumbled. "No hex bags, no sulfur; just a lady tryin' to do her job."

"Poor woman," Sam said sympathetically.

"Yeah," agreed Dean as his brother's phone rang. "Makes me wanna burn the old asshole all over again."

"Agent Ward," Sam greeted. After a few moments, he stated, "We'll be there," before hanging up his call. "Got another fire victim. Kid at Buffy's school."

"How the hell does that make any sense?"

"Dunno. Guess we'll have to go find out."

* * *

To their relief, Snyder was away at a conference and the new Vice Principal (the former having become lunch to one of the Hellmouth's plethora of vampires) had no idea who either Sam or Dean was. They flashed their badges at the authorities, pretended not to know their sister and her friends, and headed into the locker room to examine the body.

"Damndest thing," a baffled Detective Bullocks told the pair. "Greg Bautista, senior. Just got off of basketball practice, then while he was _in_ the shower he apparently burst into flames."

Sam gingerly lifted the blanket covering the dead boy. "Maybe an accelerant of some kind?"

"No sign of any and not a single other kid got so much as a singed hair."

"Got any suspects?" asked Dean as Sam backed away from the corpse.

"Well…" The detective trailed off, uncomfortable. He let out a sigh. "I don't like to speak ill of the dead, but apparently this kid was one of those cruel 'mean girls' type, except being a guy. Popular and pretty damn cruel to the kids he didn't think were worth two shits."

"Like?"

Bullocks flipped through his notebook. "Other day a boy, Jonathan Levinson, accidentally knocked Bautista's books out of his hands. Got his face smashed into a locker."

Dean winced, remembering how it felt when he'd had the same injury inflicted by Angelus. "Ouch."

"Wait a minute," Sam said, astounded. "Levinson?"

"Yeah," affirmed the detective. "Grandpa was the one that got toasted yesterday."

* * *

By the time the brothers had completed their investigation, school had been let out. They surreptitiously changed out of their FBI guises and joined their sister in the library. To their consternation, Wesley was still in attendance. Dean smugly noted the bruise blossoming spectacularly on the Watcher's jaw.

"Might I inquire as to your purpose here?" Wesley asked haughtily.

Dean ignored him and addressed Giles. "Got two cases of combustion man."

"Isolated incidents?" the ex-Watcher wondered.

"We thought so at first," Sam explained as Wesley sputtered indignantly, "but the same family's involved. First guy was George Levinson, second guy was Greg Bautista."

"And they're related how?"

"They're not, but Greg apparently bullied a kid named _Jonathan_ Levinson a few days ago. Slammed him into a locker and broke his nose. Jonathan is George's grandson."

"Wait," Buffy inserted. "Jonathan?"

"You know him?" asked Sam.

"Yeah. Sorta. Short kid, kinda one of the local school punching bags."

"Sounds like motivation to me," Dean inferred.

"Maybe. Didn't think he was the type to go burning man on people though."

"Plus," said Sam, "we still don't know how it's happening."

"Want me to go punchy-punchy on him?"

"If you please!" Wesley called loudly. The siblings finally deigned to take notice of the Watcher. "I believe that the Slayer has duties of her own to take care of. Patrolling, as is required?"

To his great annoyance, all three siblings looked at Giles for confirmation. "You may as well," said the older gentleman. "Until the source of the immolation has been discovered there's nothing else you can do."

"I guess." Buffy headed for the swinging doors. "I'll get Faith and we'll do our nightly slayage." She waved casually back to her brothers. "Bye!"

Wesley turned to Giles. "Might I remind you that _I_ am now the resident Watcher, not you? You are doing very little to help facilitate this change!"

Dean rolled his eyes at the young man's tone. He attempted to shift their focus. "You think the two of you could do some research for us? See if there's a monster that could do this sort of thing?"

"Certainly," Giles said at the same time that Wesley proclaimed, "Absolutely not."

"Dude," Sam snapped at the younger man, "why the hell not?"

The Watcher gazed up at him sternly. "Mr. Giles may have forgotten, but the Council has yet to rescind the stricture against working with the hunter community. Even if they _are_ related to the Slayer."

Sam slammed an arm against Dean's chest, preventing his brother from adding to the contusions on Wesley's face, and lifted an eyebrow at the sly smile on Giles' lips. "No, he's right," said the older man.

"He is?" Dean asked incredulously.

Wesley adjusted his lapels and lifted his nose into the air. "Of _course_ I am."

Giles' next words, however, caused the young man to immediately deflate. "But, as you have so assiduously declared, I am no longer the Watcher in residence and therefore am no longer bound by their rules." He looked at Sam. "I will call as soon as I find anything."

"Suck on that!" Dean told Wesley triumphantly as his brother dragged him out the back door.

Once they were gone, the Watcher turned towards his predecessor, livid. "You have no right to undermine my authority like this!"

"My apologies," answered Giles in a decidedly non-apologetic tone. "I just feel sick about it."

* * *

While Dean headed to the coroner to see if either body held any answers, Sam headed over to the Levinson household. His interview with Jonathan was mostly fruitless. The boy was obviously intelligent, but quite spineless and didn't seem the type to cavort with either witches or monsters for revenge.

His overprotective mother, however, immediately sent up red flags. "How _dare_ you accuse my son of… of… whatever it is you're accusing him! Don't you see that little son of a bitch broke his nose?"

"He's not being accused of anything, Mrs. Levinson," Sam said defensively. "I'm just trying to find out—"

"Find out somewhere else!" she cut through scathingly. "Jonathan has homework to do and he's never going to get into MIT with all of this nonsense hanging over his head!"

Sam gave the teenaged boy a pitying look (returned with an expression of weary resignation), apologized to his mother, and left the house. The front door slammed harshly behind him. He shook his head and pulled out his phone. "Anything?" Sam asked as soon as Dean had picked up.

"Maybe. Remember that whole deal with Alastair and the reapers? All those weird sigils and crap?"

"Yeah."

"There's something on their bones that kinda looks the same. Think it might be time to call in Cass."

"Okay. Wanna wait for Buffy?"

"Nah. She's off doing her Slayer stuff. Meet back at Angel's to call in the angel?"

"Sounds Good."

* * *

The gruesome pictures on Dean's phone showed blackened limbs and bones cracked from the heat. Despite the destruction, it was easy to spot the jagged sigil carved into each sternum. The coroner, Dean said, had chalked it up to coincidence, but as the hunter had said earlier there was no doubting the similarities between those and the ones they'd seen Alastair use to trap two reapers.

Angel peered at the photos as well. "Enochian."

"What's that?" wondered Dean. "Some kinda disease?"

"It's a language. I've seen it used for spells."

"What's it say?" Dean rolled his eyes when the vampire shrugged. "Great. Cass!" the hunter shouted at the ceiling. "Get your nerdy ass down here!"

"Was that meant to be insulting?" asked a puzzled Castiel after the usual rush of feathers.

"Maybe."

Sam snatched Dean's phone and handed it to the angel. "Do you recognize this?"

Castiel's brow furrowed. "Yes."

"So what is it?"

"I need to go."

"But—" Sam had barely finished his objection when the trench-coated angel disappeared. "Now what?" he asked irritably.

"I dunno," Dean said, "but I'm starved. Wanna see what Joyce is cooking?"

"Sure. Want to come?" Sam asked Angel.

The vampire shook his head. "I… don't think my dietary needs are Summers' dinner table appropriate."

Angel barely resisted the urge to lift his eyebrows when Buffy's younger brother flinched. That pervasive demonic stench was less, but it was still far stronger than it had been before the vampire had gone to Hell. Could he be…? No, Angel told himself. Sam couldn't possibly be that reckless.

Dean hadn't noticed. "All right, lets go. See ya, Broody."

Angel listened to the roar of the Impala fade down the road. Speculating about Sam's possible dark habits made him uneasy. Telling Dean wasn't an option; despite all they'd gone through together and the lies perpetrated by his brother, Angel was fairly certain that the man still trusted Sam more than an inhuman being. Not only that, but Buffy's relationship with her younger brother was still on tenterhooks. The vampire was loathe to snap those tenuous bonds without good reason.

After all, Angel had no substantial proof that Sam was drinking demon blood. Until he did, there was no reason to overreact.

* * *

Both Buffy's brothers and her mother were taken slightly aback at the teenager's overexcited demeanor. Having come off an early night's patrol with Faith they expected her to be more exhausted than anything else. Instead, Buffy was bursting at the seams to tell her family about the vampires they'd encountered and how thrilling it had been to vanquish so many foes at once.

Sam, Dean, and Joyce exchanged uneasy glances, a gesture that caused Buffy to grind her expose to a halt. Her leg twitched impatiently under the table and as soon as the last bite was swallowed she zipped out the door. At the same time, Sam received a call for "Agent Ward." They reluctantly left an anxious Joyce alone to go check out the newest fatality.

The woman who'd died, Lily Chen, had no connection to either the previous victims save for two things: she'd died by spontaneous combustion and she bore the same carving on her sternum. Of note, however, was the rather blasé manner of her widower, Joe. Though the method of his wife's passing was sufficiently horrifying, the fact that she was dead seemed to _satisfy_ him more than anything else. Apparently Lily, after finding another lover, had been planning on filing for divorce and taking her husband for everything he was worth. As he was a local contractor and had little to his name didn't seem to manner; the bitch wanted whatever he had.

"That's… harsh," Sam said.

"I saved and saved to bring us here," Joe replied angrily. "Do you know how difficult it is to immigrate from China? And how much money it takes to live here? You know what she tells me? I work too much! We cannot buy things she wants! So she finds a rich man and sleeps with him."

As the non-grieving widower walked away, lapsing into Cantonese and into what the brothers thought was probably a profanity laden tirade, Dean wiped a hand down his face in exasperation. "Now what? This lady had nothing in common with the other two and I really doubt the Chens are related to the Levinsons."

"That's not exactly true," Sam replied pensively. "All three victims had something in common: they were all pricks. And not just the average kind of prick, the kind that really, _really_ hurts someone else."

"So we got three assholes fried to a crisp, Cass knows what it is and ain't saying, and a sister who's acting like she's on crack."

"You wanna go check on her?"

Dean shook his head. "We don't even know what graveyard she's at and I need my four hours of beauty sleep."

Sam sighed. "Yeah. Guess there's nothing much else we can do for now."

* * *

Castiel assiduously kept out of sight of the pair of Slayers in the cemetery. He nearly intervened when the pair of them managed to get themselves on the ground under a pair of vampires (and at the same time hold a conversation about copulating with the lanky boy that seemed perpetually in the original Slayer's presence), but they recovered quickly.

The angel sensed the thing he was looking for nearby along with the presence of a few demons. After insuring that the pair of girls were heading in the opposite direction, Castiel headed for the crypt where both the demons and the item were located. He took a moment to listen, noting the name "Gleaves" etched into the top of the doorway.

"Hurry up!"

"Look, the dickhead stuffed the thing literally up the corpse's ass. Excuse me for not wanting to be covered in dead guy shit!"

"If you'd killed him in the first place like you were supposed to then maybe he wouldn't have had time to hide it."

"I'm sorry, did _you_ want to stuff your hand in half rotten fat man?"

"No."

"Then shut the fuck up!"

Castiel had heard enough. He wrenched open the stone doors and marched inside, much to the astonishment of the hellspawn. One was elbows deep into the relatively recently deceased Albert Gleaves whose corpulent corpse was emitting what his vessel registered as a gut-wrenching smell.

Before either could react the angel was on them, his hands on their foreheads burning the demon's essence from their hosts. The one exploring Albert Gleaves' abdomen slid out of the cavity with a squelch. Following the thump of the demon's corpse came a small clink as the item they were looking for was dislodged.

"Oh," came a new voice. "Well this is awkward."

Castiel swiveled around, his eyes wide. He gazed at the being in the doorway, breathless with shock. "Impossible."

"Improbable," the other one corrected.

"How did you survive? I saw you fall!"

"Long story. Easier to tell when I'm not bleeding to death."

"I will take you to safety, Balthazar," agreed Castiel, his initial bewilderment over his friend's sudden reincarnation giving way to righteous anger. "And afterwards, you will give me an explanation or I will finish what the demons started."

"Ah, Cassie," the other angel said with a sigh, his hand pressing hard against the gleaming wound on his side. "I _have_ missed you."

* * *

 **Acknowledgement** : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episode "Bad Girls" (BtVS 3.14).


	53. Book III: Chapter 53

(12/11/2017) "I'm baaaaaaack!" - AU Human Kite

Okay, I'll be honest. I spent a lot of brain cells on South Park: The Fractured But Whole because it is just _hilarious_. Fortunately the holidays are coming up and I'll have spare mind power for video games and writing.

Anyone else seriously enjoying season 13 of Supernatural? I don't care about the general consensus; I like Asmodeus, KFC outfit and all.

Thank you **TimeLord2162, demon19027, RHatch89, Sage of Wind Dragons, thedarkpokemaster, Maverick500, Sal the guest, mystery guest** , and **RomanticBlondie** for the reviews! Did you guys know that this is the SPN/Buffy crossover fic with the second most reviews on this site? You guys are the best! _

And all you favoriters and followers get Balthazar's v-neck shirts!

* * *

The pair of angels squared off, unwilling to concede to the other's demands. Castiel's eyes shifted slowly back and forth from the gleaming object on the ground to the friend he'd thought died. "How?"

"Is this really the time?" Balthazar groaned as he leaned against the crypt's stone wall. His vessel had a distinct English lilt. "I'm sorry, but I do appear to be bleeding to death."

"You should be _dead_ ," the other angel snarled, his voice drifting somewhere between overwhelming disbelief and righteous fury. "I saw you killed. I saw you fall into the Pit!"

Balthazar slid to the ground. "Again, old friend, truly not the best time for stories."

"Uh, what's going on?"

Both angels' attention was arrested by the relatively silent arrival of two, extraordinarily flushed looking Slayers. "Oh, wow," said Faith appreciatively. "Hot guy central up in the cemetery."

Buffy glanced down at Balthazar. "Yeah, well, one apparently poked a shiny hole in the other."

"Ouch, ouch," a delighted Balthazar moaned. "Cassie was so mean and hurtful. Look what he did to me!"

Outraged, Castiel began stepping towards the door. "I had no part in—"

Still riding high after an exhilarating battle with a horde of vampires, Buffy was unwilling to listen to the trench-coated angel's protestations. As soon as Castiel moved, she took steps to meet him. Once close enough, her fist snapped forward and connected with his jaw.

Castiel staggered slightly. Any physical rejoinder he'd planned on making was arrested by a second fist cracking into his cheek as Faith joined the fray.

Watching from his convalescence near the doorway, Balthazar was impressed that the two girls were holding out against his friend for so long. The Slayers were skilled, well trained, and mystically enhanced beyond normal human physicality, but their opponent was a veteran of the innumerable wars between Heaven and Hell and had eons to perfect his skills. He'd seen Castiel fight off a horde of demons practically alone, wielding dual blades after one of their brethren had fallen. The hellspawn had perished one after the other, the angel himself hosting a bevy of wounds, until at last they were defeated and the path to the Righteous Man was clear.

It suddenly dawned on Balthazar that Castiel was _holding back_. For whatever reason the other angel's blade was still sheathed and his punches held only a fraction of his strength. His lowered guard allowed Faith to grab his lapels and toss him over the sarcophagus (and poor Albert Gleaves' mangled, corpulent corpse). This gave Balthazar the opportunity to make some use out of the wound in his side.

Faith whooped out in triumph at what was assuredly another Slayer-centric victory and leapt up to survey her handiwork. With one foot braced on either side of the crypt's squelchy human remains the dark-haired girl crowed, "And _that's_ what you get for messing with us, right B?"

Rather than add to her counterpart's bravado, Buffy busied herself checking out the wounded man on the floor. "Hey, you're gonna be okay," she assured him.

"Undoubtedly," Balthazar replied, "but I very much doubt your friend will be."

"What—" No further explanation was needed as Faith flew across the small space and slammed into the stone doors. She landed heavily next to Buffy, groaning, as a clearly infuriated Castiel rounded the sarcophagus.

Before he could reach them, however, a white light blinded the pair of Slayers. Castiel's wings shadowed the mausoleum and with a rush of air he disappeared.

Balthazar dropped his hand from the blood sigil he'd wrought on the wall beside him. "Ah, there. Good thing I know how to spell his name in Enochian. Now if you'll excuse me, ladies, I believe I'm going to pass out from blood loss." True to his word, the angel's eyes rolled up into his head and he slumped over onto his side.

Buffy gently pushed on Faith's shoulder. "You awake?"

"Five by five. Man, these bruises are gonna suck," Faith grumbled as she picked herself off the floor.

Buffy eyed the light emitting from the stranger's side with a good deal of trepidation. "I'm going to call Giles and Dean. Think you can help me drag this guy to the car?"

"Sure thing. Think he'll mind if I see how firm that foreign ass is?"

"Foreign ass-check away."

* * *

Before they left the Gleaves family crypt, Buffy spotted the gleam of gold on the ground. As Faith hoisted the unconscious celestial stranger off the ground, the other Slayer picked up what turned out to be an old ring.

It was ancient, that much was certain, the gold bearing the slightly warped and tarnished appearance of items normally seen behind museum glass. Runes of unknown origin were scribed on the inside, and when Buffy took a closer look she discovered that they were neither carved nor written. Instead they seemed, impossibly, to be part and parcel of the gold itself, imbedded much more like a tattoo than an intaglio.

Between stylized prongs sat an enormous ruby, its facets made sharp enough to cut. The size of the jewel and its golden casing denoted a man's ring (much to Buffy's covetous disappointment), but for whom or for what purpose the Slayer had no idea. "What is this?"

"Buried treasure?" offered Faith as she groped the bleeding angel tossed over her shoulder.

Seeing as how the current, ripe occupant of the crypt had his bare, abused rectum exposed to the elements, Buffy immediately ascertained where the item had been interred. "Oh, ew," she said, nauseous, as she hastily dropped the jewelry.

In the end, Buffy gingerly put the ring into an outside pocket. Her sleep-deprived brothers picked up the two Slayers and their burden and drove them to Giles' home. On the way, both girls gave a rambling, fast-paced recount of the night's discoveries (beginning with the ring, diving into their epic vampire battle, concluding with finding Castiel and the now unconscious angel in the Gleaves family crypt) and inserted several far-fetched theories as to who, what, why, and how any of it occurred. By the time they'd reached Giles' flat, Sam and Dean's heads were spinning, but neither Slayer seemed to have lost any of their unusual momentum.

After knocking, Sam cut off both Buffy and Faith before either could treat Giles to the same exposition and gave an abbreviated version of the girls' tale. Afterwards, with great trepidation, the injured angel was laid on Giles' couch. As the rest of them conferred, Sam used the kit they always stored in the Impala and began sewing it shut.

"Now what?" Dean asked irritably.

"Tie him up?" Faith suggested eagerly. "That's how a lot of fun starts."

Buffy eyed the girl askance. "So don't want to know the details of that." When her eldest brother opened his mouth, ostensibly to fill in for Faith, Buffy held an imperious finger up at him and added, " _Especially_ from you."

"So how exactly did you come across this, um, new angel?" asked Giles.

"Because of me," Castiel answered from behind Dean.

"Shit!" the hunter cursed as he jumped away and nearly landed on Giles' ancient television. Several knickknacks and books went tumbling to the floor.

"His name is Balthazar," Castiel continued, seemingly unperturbed by Dean's flailing. "And he _supposedly_ died on the mission to Hell."

"You mean to rescue Dean," inferred Sam.

"Yes." The trench-coated angel gave the prone figure a scowl that conveyed both relief and frustration. "He was a friend."

Giles frowned. "I was under the impression that you lot were nigh invulnerable."

Castiel's wrist twitched and a long silver stiletto fell down his sleeve into his hand. "He must have been stabbed by one of these."

Faith crooned in appreciation. "Shiny and looks great for poking. Gonna share?" she asked eagerly.

The angel lifted the blade for display. "No."

Buffy glanced from one angel to the other, noted the vindictive gleam in Castiel's eye, and slid herself into his line of sight. "Don't. Whatever he may have done, you just said it yourself: he was a friend."

After narrowing his eyes for a brief moment, Castiel flicked his wrist and the blade vanished. Jealously, Dean grumbled, "I want a hiding dagger thing."

"I'll bet you wanna be able to pop it in and out of someone whenever you want," Faith said with a smirk.

As Dean digested her innuendo, Sam sighed. "So what now?"

"I will set up wards," Castiel stated. "He may not wake for some time and I do not think it wise that our brothers and sisters know where he is."

"Why not?"

"I fear Balthazar may have stolen something." The angel pointed at Buffy's pocket. "That."

With a grimace, the Slayer pulled out her treasure with forefinger and thumb and held it up, disgusted. "You mean the butt ring?"

"Butt ring?" Sam echoed.

Interestedly, Dean began to ask, "Is that kinda like a co—"

"She means it got dug out of someone's butt," Faith supplied.

"Oh." The hunter's face then mimicked his sister's. "Gross."

"Give it to me," Castiel demanded.

"Why?" Buffy snapped back.

"What is it?" Giles added, far more amiably.

"The Ring of Nebuchadnezzar," the angel replied through gritted teeth. "A very powerful weapon of Heaven."

"The Babylonian king?" asked the Watcher, his eyebrows lifted.

"It is what killed George Levinson, Greg Bautista, and Lily Chen," Castiel continued. "Left out in the open it merely obliterates those generally deemed the most wicked and faithless. If someone were to put it on they could direct its power. Entire cities could be laid to waste."

"How could a ring destroy an entire city?" Sam queried, astonished.

"The wearer becomes the focus for its power," explained the trench-coated angel. "Whoever is deemed unworthy _in their eyes_ is brought down."

While his brother and sister stared, puzzled, Sam surmised, "Then if someone thought everyone who ate celery was an abomination…"

"All those who consumed celery would be obliterated. Now," Castiel growled at Buffy, his palm outstretched, "hand it over."

"Why should she?" Faith interjected. She smacked his fingers away. "Finders keepers, feathers."

"You don't understand—"

"No, _you_ don't understand." The dark haired Slayer jabbed the angel in the chest, a derisive smirk set on her lips. "We're not just some bitches you can push around. We're _Slayers_. If there's some weapon that's gonna smack down the bad guys then _we're_ holding onto it. Get what I'm saying?"

Castiel looked down at Faith, indignant, then cast his eyes about at the others. When he met the same obstinance, he reluctantly capitulated. "Do not put it on."

Faith gave the angel a playful slap to the chest with the back of her hand. Judging by how the impact caused him to take a step back, she'd put a good amount of her preternatural strength into the blow. "We gotcha, fly-boy."

In the end, the ring was given to Giles' care (as they all assumed he was the least likely to either flaunt or wield it). It assuaged the justifiably wary angel's concerns and it gave the Slayers the opening to utilize the jewel in case it was needed. Once that was settled, Castiel used his own blade to slice his hand open and painted bloody sigils on the doors and walls. Hunters and Slayers both eyed the weapon with covetously. Their attentiveness made the angel nervous enough to shove the stiletto into his coat and fly off the moment he was done.

The next day was, unfortunately for Buffy, a school day. She said her goodbyes and sauntered off, Faith in tow, the two girls quarreling about which of them had taken on more vampires as they headed down the street. Sam and Dean volunteered to keep an eye on the unconscious Balthazar in shifts, trading idle moments of observation with standby periods in case they were called in to view another fatality. The latter turned out to be unnecessary. Whether it was being in the hands of a responsible party or being surrounded by angelic warding, the Ring of Nebuchadnezzar was dormant; no further charred remains were noted.

However, with Balthazar unconscious and Castiel distracted, the humans were left uninformed regarding the demonic presence in town.

* * *

Mayor Richard Wilkins III (or Sr., or Jr. depending on the era) was a big fan of cleanliness, punctuality, and regularity. Therefore when his assistant, Allan, showed up disheveled, late, and without his usual cowering, obsequious manner the Mayor was quite irritated. "Oh, shame on you!" he rebuked. "For one, couldn't you have at least showered and changed clothing?" As Allan looked down at himself, bemused, Wilkins added, "And not only that, but you went and got yourself possessed. That's just… careless."

Allan's eyes blinked and filmed over in black. "Castiel showed. We were unable to retrieve the ring."

A wry chuckle floated out from the corner of the room. "That's what you get for sending a demon to do a vamp's job," Mr. Trick commented.

The demon's eyes reverted as he glowered at the creature, but snapped back to attention when the Mayor said darkly, "That is _incredibly_ disappointing."

"We are continuing to search for its whereabouts," Allan's voice said hastily. "We're certain it's still in town."

Wilkins brightened immediately. "Now that's encouraging! It's what I like to see from you fellows: initiative and thoroughness."

"Bet you those Slayers have it," Trick offered. "Want me and mine to keep an eye on them?"

The Mayor shook his head. "Daylight hours, my friend! Night falls, however, and it should be your _first_ priority."

" _We'll_ handle it for now," the demon said smugly. Trick let out a quiet snarl.

"Now, now," Wilkins scolded, "we're all friends in here. Let's consider this room a 'safe place.' After all, we're all aiming for the same goal."

After a few more moments of scowling at one another, the vampire and the demon acquiesced. In a show of contrition, the latter asked, "Do you want me to find another meatsuit?"

"Nah!" The Mayor gave an amused chuckle. "Frankly you've impressed me more in the last few minutes than Allan has in months. Young demon, you have potential!" He waggled a finger. "Keep it up, and I'll put in a good word with you-know-who."

"Thank you, sir."

"However, please go tidy up Mr. Finch's body there. I cannot abide sloppiness. Oh, and do me a favor?" Wilkins asked as he pulled out a moist towelette and began cleaning his hands. "Try not to let Allan get killed?"

"I'll do my best."

"No, do _better_. Otherwise," the Mayor continued as he approached the demon, "we are going to have some very, very stern words."

Much to Trick's amusement, Allan's throat bobbed as the demon took the proffered, now soiled napkin. "Yes, sir."

* * *

Balthazar still hadn't woken up by the next afternoon, but his wound looked significantly better. Once Giles returned to his home, Sam and Dean decided they needed a break and headed for The Bronze. By the time they arrived evening had fallen and the crowd was in full swing. With a DJ headlining the music instead of a local band the dance floor was full, much to Dean's delight. "Whoa," he said, "check out the hot chicks."

The flashing lights and thick clump of people made seeing details difficult, but Sam's advantage in height allowed him to look over people's heads and recognize the pair of girls grinding on the dance floor. "Dude," he gasped, dismayed, "that's our _sister_."

The elder brother peered closer at the blonde and brunette. "Oh for—son of a bitch!"

To both brothers' gaping astonishment their little sister and her dark haired counterpart were enjoying the company of several young men as they gyrated against one another. Dean immediately stormed towards them (intending fully to pound in the face of the boy whose fingers were now wrapping around Buffy's waist), but came to a halt when he spotted Angel rounding a corner. The vampire's face mirrored the Winchester's vexation at the scene, and when Buffy peeled away from her handsy admirers his face barely changed.

As Faith enticed the entire group of young men to her side, Buffy leapt up into her boyfriend's arms, her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. "Hey!" she cried as he reflexively supported her from below. "You're not leaving, are you?"

"I saw you making friends," Angel replied, jealousy lending a slight harshness his words.

"Them? Boys," Buffy scoffed. Her smile held a mix of desire and joy. "I like you!"

The euphoria dipped when she spotted her glowering eldest brother, arms folded, right behind her vampire. She dropped down but made no attempt to look apologetic. "Hi!"

Angel stepped back to allow the hunter into their conversation. Dean, however, appeared to be at a loss for words. "What?" Buffy asked blithely.

"Were you—" her brother managed. He tried again. "Did I just see—Was that you—"

Dean's attempts to berate the girl were cut off by an undignified yelp from the dance floor. A cackling Faith was pointing at Sam from the arms of one of her nameless male hanger-ons as the taller hunter rubbed his right buttocks. While Sam resumed trying to get the dark-haired Slayer's attention, Dean turned back to Buffy and opened his mouth again. Before he could make another attempt, an unwelcome voice made itself heard. "Ah! There you are."

"Great," moaned Dean as Wesley and his accusatory finger encroached on their space.

The Watcher stared sternly down at Buffy. "I think we ought to establish that if you're going to go out slaying, you leave me the number of whomever you are with so that I can contact you."

"Righty-o!" Buffy said half-heartedly.

"And who is this?" Wesley wondered imperiously as he turned towards Angel.

"A friend," the vampire snapped. He turned his full attention to the Slayer. "There are rumors going around. Demons are in town looking for a weapon."

"I know," Buffy replied. "The Ring of… of… I don't remember exactly but it sounds like Buzz Lightyear."

"Nebuchadnezzar," Dean corrected her. When the others stared, incredulous that he'd remembered the complex name, he added, "What? It's the name of the ship in the Matrix."

"If I may," Wesley interjected. "Buffy, there is a reason why I came to find you."

"And that is…?" the Slayer asked impatiently.

"That angel fellow, Balthazar? He's finally conscious."

* * *

The Bronze had a distinct lack of parking spaces, which meant that if they drove the Impala ended up several blocks away. Normally this wasn't a problem; the Winchesters were becoming notorious around the area for both their hunting skills and their relationship with the Slayer and the local population of vampires tended to steer clear. The minor demons were, however, far more amenable to indulge their bloodthirsty tendencies when accompanied by their full-fledged demonic counterparts.

When the couple in the alley flashed black eyes, Sam and Dean immediately whipped out Ruby's knife and a handgun, respectively, and attacked. From the opposite direction came the inhuman snarls that signified vampiric enemies. Buffy stamped down on an abandoned pallet, creating several makeshift stakes, and, alongside Angel, leapt into the fray.

Wesley grabbed the smallest of the wooden fragments and flailed ineffectively between them.

The vampires were the lesser issue, despite their being half a dozen of them; between the five combatants there was only _one_ effective blade for the demons. Three of the vamps were dust fairly quickly, but from the fire escapes directly above dropped two more black-eyed hellspawn. Their landing separated the group; Buffy, Faith, and Sam on one side, and Angel, Dean, and Wesley on the other.

The demons immediately set their eyes on the Slayers. When one waved a hand and slammed Buffy into a wall Sam tossed the blade to Faith (who was closest). She plunged it into one demon's back, its eyes and mouth flashing a fiery orange as it died, just as another pair of hellspawn arrived from the opposite end of the alley.

Angel dusted the last of the vampires, but that only left the demons with a clear path. Seeing no other recourse, Dean screamed, "Run!" as he dropped and replaced his gun clip.

The group scattered. Angel hauled a cowering Wesley to his feet as Buffy and Sam headed one direction and Faith the other. Dean covered their retreat the best he could with the remainder of his bullets. Much to his dismay, he noted the whine of police sirens in the distance, at the momentthe far away but getting closer by the second. The hunter took off after Angel and Wesley (the only two he could still see) hoping that the demon vessels they were abandoning were individuals that wouldn't be missed.

Buffy screeched around a corner, Sam on her heels, and was brought up short by the sight of a man who, under normal circumstances, would have been best described as slight and cowering. All of that was washed away with by the sight of black eyes and a cruel sneer. "Where's the ring?" the demon demanded.

"Didn't really go with the outfit," Buffy threw back. Her brother cursed to himself as he recalled handing off Ruby's knife to Faith.

The demon swept his hand, batting an unseen force towards the pair of humans. Buffy and Sam slammed into a wall, hard, leaving them both dazed. With another gesture the hellspawn had them suspended and choking. "I'm in no mood for games," he snarled.

Whether or not the demon could have tortured the information from either the Slayer or the hunter was a possibility left unanswered. From around the corner came both Dean and Angel's voices calling their names. The hellspawn grimaced, unwilling to chance an encounter with an additional hunter and the notoriously benevolent vampire, and left his vessel's body in a plume of black smoke. The man staggered as Sam and Buffy fell to the ground.

Which was when Faith appeared… and slammed the demon-killing knife into the man's ribs.

Fueled by supernaturally enhanced adrenaline, the blow cut through his sternum and into his heart. Confusion crossed the dark-haired Slayer's face when the stranger fell heavily to his knees, blood pouring from the wound, instead of giving the usual display of electric current that accompanied the death of a demon. When the man flopped onto his side, red beginning to flow from his mouth and nose, the horror of what she had done sank in. "I didn't… I didn't know!" Faith stammered as the blade clattered to the concrete.

"Hey!" Sam said hoarsely as he propped the man up against a dumpster. "Hey hey hey! Stay awake! C'mon, man, it'll be okay. Buffy, put your hands there. Faith, my phone's in my pocket. _Faith_!"

The Slayer couldn't move. Her eyes never strayed from the blood pumping from between her blonde-haired counterpart's fingers as Buffy vainly tried to staunch the wound.

In a few, brief moments the stranger was dead.

Sam gently released the man and drew Buffy away. She knelt nearby, her eyes wide with shock. Her brother then looked up at Faith, uncertain of what to say, of how to ease the agony that the girl must be feeling at having taken a human life. Panic overtook anguish as the sound of law enforcement vehicles came perilously near.

"The knife," Sam ordered. Faith reflexively bent down and picked it up. She handed it to the hunter, her gaze still locked to the dead man.

"Let's go," Sam demanded. When neither Slayer moved, he grabbed both their wrists and yanked. "*Now!*" he barked.

They went, running from both the authorities and their guilt, leaving the cooling body of Allan Finch, mayoral aide, to lay in the growing pool of his own blood.

* * *

 **Author's Note** : Castiel banishes Zachariah with a specific sort of sigil in "Lucifer Rising" (SPN 4.23). Figured it would work on Cass as well.

I hope I don't need to spell out what Dean was trying to refer to regarding the ring's purpose. Because, you know, sex.

Nebuchadnezzar, the actual/biblical Babylonian king, is credited with one of the times that Jerusalem was destroyed. The whole exact when and how isn't clear, but it's said that he set fire to basically all the things. And it's totally the name of Morpheus' ship.


	54. Book III: Chapter 54

(12/20/2017) I realized the other day that I've actually been working on this consistently for over a year. Go me?

For Epiphany the guest: I never claimed I was going to change things up completely; rather I'm aiming for parallel storylines with different, hopefully interesting, roads to the outcomes. I mean, I honestly don't think you'd have the same characters with the same quirks if they didn't go through the same (or at least similar) trials. Some stuff will change, sure, but the overall arcs won't. Hope that makes sense. If it's not what you were looking for, then I dunno 0_o You read all 53 chapters for funzies?

Thank you **Timelord2162, Sage of Wind Dragons, RHatch89, Maverick500, demon19027, thedarkpokemaster, philly cheese dude** , and **PukwudgiePuff** for the reviews! And all you favoriters and followers get kittens!

* * *

Dean was debating whether or not Angel would mind eating the whimpering Wesley when Sam, Buffy, and Faith came pelting out of the alleyway. He registered how the vampire suddenly stiffened, for what reason he couldn't fathom, but was more concerned about the strange look in the pair of Slayers' eyes. Without another word, Buffy's eldest brother turned and sprinted for the Impala where it was parked, thankfully, in an area still unlit by flashing red and blue lights. He unlocked it quickly and the six of them stuffed themselves inside, Dean, Wesley, and Angel in the front with the two Slayers sandwiching Sam in the back.

"We should—" Wesley started to squeak. The Watcher was cut off by several pairs of hands slapping over varying parts of his face.

For a few breathless minutes they waited, hoping against everything that they would go unnoticed by the authorities. Buffy even dared to send a silent prayer to Castiel. When it became certain that the focus of the police was far enough away, Dean turned the engine over and slowly drove off.

An odd, muffled sound was coming from somewhere in the vehicle. Sam, Buffy, Angel and Faith then realized that they still had their hands over Wesley's mouth, eyes, ears, and nose. They slowly drew away and the Watcher gratefully inhaled a large quantity of oxygen. "Thank you."

"I want out," Faith said suddenly, her hand on the back passenger door.

"Faith," Sam murmured sympathetically.

" _Now_!" she screamed.

Puzzled, Dean pulled over. The moment the vehicle stopped, the dark-haired Slayer was out, feet flying, before anyone could say another word.

"Maybe I should go talk to her," Buffy offered.

"Give her time," her younger brother said.

"Okay," Dean interjected as Buffy pulled the door closed, "what the hell happened to you guys?"

"I smell blood," Angel said, concerned. "Are either of you…?"

"It's not ours," Sam replied. Before he could elaborate, however, Buffy suddenly reopened her door, leaned out, and vomited onto the sidewalk.

When her brother put a hand on her back, the teenager shook her head. "I'll be fine."

"We'll figure it out," Sam told her.

"Figure what out?" asked Dean.

His brother closed his eyes and sighed. "Faith killed someone. A _human_ someone."

* * *

After Buffy washed her mouth out with a beer (other than holy water it was the only consumable liquid Dean had in the car) and proclaimed that the drink was nearly as disgusting as what her stomach had regurgitated, they resumed driving. As they moved, the Slayer dug into her pocket for a small box of mints and proceeded to eat them one after the other.

They drove to Angel's mansion in silence, but as soon as they entered the foyer there was a considerable debate regarding what to do next. "We must go to the authorities," Wesley insisted. "The quicker we get them involved, the more likely it is that Faith's side will be heard."

"Her side of what exactly?" Dean scoffed. "She _killed someone_. Trust me, when cops get involved it all goes to shit."

The Watcher sighed. "I realize that you and your brother's frequent encounters with law enforcement have been… vexing at best. But see it from an outsider's perspective: Faith is a _child_. And not only that, I truly doubt she _purposely_ committed murder."

"No," Buffy agreed, "it was an accident."

"Therefore the authorities _should_ be understanding. Unless any of you feel she might repeat the act."

Sam shook his head. "What is she going to say? 'I had no idea that the man was no longer a demon when I stuck a knife into his heart'? What is she supposed to say about the other dead bodies? You know, those meatsuits that got killed with the _exact_ same weapon? She's going to get pinned for all of it!"

"If you have no trust for the American legal system then I wonder greatly at your former ambition to become a lawyer."

The Watcher's jab effectively infuriated Sam into silence. "If you are truly insistent that the courts will be ineffective then I shall bring her to the Watcher's Council," Wesley continued. "There she will be given a fair hearing and trial."

"Are you _kidding_ me?" Buffy asked incredulously just as Dean exclaimed, "No fucking way!"

"You mean the Council headed by Travers, the single-minded, stuffy-headed jerk that almost got me killed?" Buffy snarled.

"What she said," Dean added vindictively.

Irritably, Wesley asked, "Then what do you propose?"

"Let me talk to her," Angel said quietly.

The vampire had been silent since they'd arrived. His proposition confused his audience. "Why?" Buffy wondered gently.

"Have any of you intentionally taken a life? And I don't mean a demon or a monster. I mean a _human_ life." At the others' denials, Angel said simply, "I have."

Silence met his proclamation. In the ensuing space, the vampire explained, "None of you understand what that's like. No one you've fought or killed didn't deserve what they got. To have the blood of an innocent on your hands… it's different. _Far_ different."

The disgust radiating off Wesley and Sam, and the contrasting pity from Buffy and Dean, did nothing to alter Angel's grim assertion. Finally, the young Watcher cleared his throat. "I suggest we take the night to think things over. Perhaps by the morning, Faith herself will be more amenable to discussion."

This proposal appeared amicable to the rest of them. Dean, however, recalled what had spurred their exit from The Bronze (and, unintentionally, had led to the night's harrowing events). "Didn't you say Balthazar is up?"

"Ah, yes. Shall we go question the angel?"

"Might as well," Sam said with a sigh. He turned to his sister and her vampiric boyfriend. "Coming?"

"I gotta get home," Buffy complained. "It's not far. I'll walk." Angel merely shook his head.

The couple watched the Winchesters and their unwelcome companion leave. Dean practically threw Wesley into the back seat when the Watcher made to sit in the front passenger's side while Sam rolled his eyes. Once the Impala had roared off, Buffy turned towards Angel. "I'm going to go try now. We've been close the past couple of days. Maybe I'll at least get her to start talking."

"All right." The vampire gave her a lingering kiss. "Be careful."

"Aren't I always?"

"No."

"Thanks a _lot_."

* * *

The one saving grace of the entire terrible evening (which began with a brother ogling his sister and ended with a homicide) was an exhausted Wesley asking to be dropped off at his flat rather than accompany them to talk to Balthazar. As soon as the Impala's door closed Dean screeched off, ignoring the Watcher's attempt at expressing his gratitude for the transportation.

When they got to Giles' home, Sam and Dean discovered that someone had preceded them. The brothers ducked under the librarian's open window to listen. They were both relieved to see that Giles was safely standing at his kitchen counter with a mug of tea, his face evidencing an intense fascination with the exchange occurring in his living room.

"What exactly is it that you want me to say, Castiel?" Balthazar was demanding.

"I would like a better explanation for your presence than… than whatever it was that you said!"

"I believe he was referring to the human experience," Giles supplied. "Although I'm fairly certain all he's alluding to is rampant hedonism."

"And what's wrong with that?" Balthazar asked, offended. "I figure thousands of years of watch duty entitles me to some vacation time."

"That is not the point!" Castiel snarled.

"Then what _is_ the point, my old friend?"

"You abandoned your post."

"Apparently I'm not the only one." Balthazar let out a derisive chuckle. "Oh, take the stick out of your ass, Castiel. It's getting rather tiresome. Besides, I do believe we have an audience."

At the ensuing silence, Sam and Dean grimaced at one another. They stood and discovered two angels and an amused Watcher staring at the window. Dean sheepishly flashed a hand in greeting before the pair headed for the front door.

"So who is he?" Sam asked Castiel.

Balthazar gave an indignant huff. "You _could_ ask me directly."

"Okay. Who _are_ you?"

"Cassie and I, here, were in the same garrison together. Things happened and, well, here we are."

Castiel began to growl, "That's not enough—"

"Suffice to say I came to see what all this Hellmouth business is about," Balthazar cut in.

Varying degrees of disbelief met his statement of intent. "And this?" asked Giles as he pulled the Ring of Nebuchadnezzar out of his pocket.

"Always handy to have an extra weapon or three on the Hellmouth, don't you think?"

"How did you get it past Virgil?" Castiel asked harshly.

"You'd be amazed at how many of our brothers and sisters are dumbfounded when presented with multiple examples of finely shaped naked human forms."

"Oh dear Lord," Giles muttered as he rolled his eyes.

"Yes," Balthazar said with a smirk, "we _should_ be thanking Father for such blessings."

"Can't disagree there," Dean mumbled quietly to himself. To the remainder of the group he said, "What now?"

"I should take you back to Heaven to answer for your thievery," Castiel snarled at Balthazar.

The angel (who had been prone this entire time) sat up and cocked an eyebrow at his one-time superior. "You could have done that at any time, Cassie. So the question is: why haven't you?"

Being faced with four pairs of curious eyes appeared to fluster the trench-coated angel. "I—"

"For that matter, you could have snapped those girls' necks in seconds." Balthazar stood, a knowing smirk set on his lips. He faced his friend, his hands in his pockets. "If I didn't know any better, I would think you're starting to _like_ these hairless apes. I can't imagine why."

Castiel's fists clenched. Sam, Dean, and Giles all backed away, unwilling and unable to interfere if the pair of celestial beings decided to brawl in the ex-Watcher's living room. After a few moments, however, one angel pressed close to the other and growled, "I don't answer to you," before disappearing in a swirl of air.

"Ah, well," Balthazar said with a shrug. "I don't suppose you'd like to hand that over, hm?"

Giles regarded the angel's outstretched palm with disgust. "I think not."

Balthazar let out a derisive snort. "I could just take it."

A harsh click sounded. "Go on," Dean urged. "Try it."

"Silly ape. You _know_ that won't kill me."

"No, but I bet it'd be a while before you could rebuild that ugly face of yours."

Balthazar sighed. "Very well. Suppose I'll take in the sights for now. I hear the local college has a prime meat market." A rush of wings later and the angel was gone.

"Trust that guy about as far as I can throw him," Dean stated.

"I agree," said Giles. He held up the ring. "In the meantime, I think I'll put this somewhere a little more secure."

* * *

Buffy's attempt to persuade Faith to come forward with the accidental murder failed miserably. The dark-haired Slayer acted nonchalant when presented with the possible consequences of her actions. "Faith," Buffy said pleadingly, "you don't get it. You _killed_ a man."

"No, _you_ don't get it," Faith retorted, a smirk set on her lips. "I don't care."

After that fruitless endeavor, a heavy-hearted Buffy headed home and to bed. Morning arrived, and breakfast ended up only amping up her anxiety as the newscast her mother was watching revealed the identity of their mystery man.

"Several bodies were discovered late last night by local police," said the pretty woman on the screen. "Most have been identified as local members of the homeless community around Sunnydale, however one high-profile victim was identified as Deputy Mayor Allan Finch. Still reeling from the news, Mayor Wilkins had this to say."

The view blipped from the desk to a field reporter and a microphone pointed at the grim looking mayor. "Mr. Finch was not only my longtime aide and associate," Wilkins stated, "he was a close personal friend. I promise you I will not rest until whoever did this is found and brought to justice. Thank you very much."

Buffy's mother expressed her horror at what appeared to be simply human violence and left her daughter speechless. After a minute, Buffy found the voice to agree before she grabbed her backpack and rushed off to school.

Once there her guilt found no reprieve as she was met by a shamefaced Faith and a stern Giles. "It's okay, Buffy," the dark-haired Slayer said. "I told him."

"You _told him?_ " Buffy asked disbelievingly.

"I had to. He had to know what you did."

"What _I_ —" Comprehension dawned. "Giles," she pleaded, "that's not what—"

"I don't want to hear it, Buffy," her former Watcher snapped.

Hanging around her eldest brother was beginning to have its consequences. In an explosion that would have made Dean proud (and Sam appalled), Buffy promptly began a vitriolic, obscenity laden tirade directed squarely at Faith. "What the fucking _hell_ , you bitc—"

"Buffy!" barked Giles. "My office. _Now_."

As Buffy flounced into the other room, Faith gave a less than heartfelt apology for the subterfuge before walking from the library. Once Giles strode through the doorway, Faith's blonde counterpart immediately tried to refute her claim. "Giles, I didn't do this. I swear. I should have told you right away, but the murder, i-it… it was—"

"Faith," the librarian inserted. "I know." At Buffy's shocked expression, he added, "Your brothers already told me what happened. I'm sorry. I needed her to think that I was on her side."

Buffy sighed in relief. She then related Wesley's arguments from the night before. "I can't help thinking that bringing in the law will just make her rabbit on out of here. Is there really a Council court thing?"

"Well, it's not the first time something like this has happened." Buffy's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "The Slayer is on the front line of a nightly war. Now, it's tragic, but accidents have happened, and punishment was meted out when it was merited. But I believe you're correct; Faith is unstable. Until she's willing to face what she's done we can't help her."

"What about Watcher Junior?

"I'll try to reason with him. Despite saying that he would wait, I fear that Mr. Wyndham-Pryce's first instincts are to follow the rules."

* * *

A plethora of calls and voicemails failed to produce a response from Wesley, a result that Giles found deeply troublesome. As a precaution, the former Watcher asked Buffy's brothers to check in on his replacement. With far too much enthusiasm Sam picked the lock on Wesley's door. They found a prim, empty abode with no real clues as to where the man might be. Dean swiped Wesley's bottle of Glengoolie Blue as consolation.

After school, having spent the past few days feeling as if she'd been pushed out of Buffy's life, Willow confronted her friend. To her great surprise the normally steadfast, strong-willed girl burst into tears. The pressure of the last night's events as well as lack of sleep culminated in Buffy woefully relating all that had happened as well as apologizing profusely for her attitude.

Willow texted Xander (being Friday, Oz had a gig up north), and after classes the three friends met in the library to further consult with Giles. Dean joined them as well.

"Where's Sam?" asked Willow.

"He went to go take a crack at Faith," Dean replied. "I'm sure he's gonna give her his big ol' puppy eyes and she'll cave."

"Maybe I should go, too," Xander inserted.

"What for?"

A lengthy back and forth exchange followed during which Xander, as obliquely as possible, explained his one night stand with Faith and, therefore, a possible connection with the girl. The revelation made Willow's jaw stiffen.

Comprehension also dawned on Dean. "Dude, _that's_ what that call was about?"

"Yes?" Xander peeped out.

"Well, congrats on losing the v-card." Buffy, her eyes on Willow, dug an elbow into her brother's side. "Ow!"

In a valiant attempt to both ignore the growing tension and to veer the conversation towards a useful subject, Giles ordered, "I think we need to find out why the demons picked the mayor's aide of all people. The news stated that the other demonic vessels were vagrants. Why, then, choose someone so easily identifiable?"

"Ego?" Buffy offered.

"Perhaps. Willow?" When the girl didn't respond, Giles repeated worriedly, "Willow?"

The girl jerked out of her unhappy reverie. "Huh? What? Yes?"

"Will you borrow Sam's laptop and see if you can get into the mayor's files? Perhaps Mr. Finch's employer will have more information."

"Yeah. Sure. I-I'll do it now." Dean produced the desired computer from his backpack and handed it over. With undue haste, Willow gathered up her things and hustled from the room.

Xander looked forlornly after his childhood friend, but stood his ground when he saw the censorious look on Buffy's face. Oblivious to the teenage drama, Dean offered, "Could go do some recon."

"If you think it might help," Giles said.

"What about Faith?" Buffy asked.

The librarian sighed. "I-I don't know. I need time. Perhaps Sam will succeed where the rest of us could not."

* * *

"Faith?" Sam called as he knocked on her motel room door. "Faith? It's Sam. Can we talk?"

The door opened and, wary over the welcome he'd gotten the last time he came calling, Sam took a step back. Faith, however, seemed to be more irritated than pleased. "What?"

"Five minutes, okay?"

Sighing lugubriously, the girl allowed the man into the room. "Five _exactly_. Not a second more."

Sam gave her his best, sympathetic look. "I just wanted to see if you were okay."

"Sick of people wondering that for one thing." She shrugged. " _I'm fine_."

"Yeah, okay, but we both know what happened last night and how that's _not_ something you just walk away from."

For a moment, Sam thought he might have at least cracked the girl's shell of affected unconcern; her eyes flicked over to a shirt lying in her sink, the ends of the long sleeves seeped in blood. Then she smirked. "But I did. And I bet little sis already told you what I said: I don't care."

The hunter got closer and used every inch of his superior height to loom threateningly. "I _know_ that's not true. You took a life, Faith. You think I don't know what that feels like? Every time we gank a demon there's some innocent person inside that gets killed along with it! So talk to me. Say _something_. Because I know from experience that this is eating you up."

The impact to Sam's chest drove the breath from his lungs. He realized that the Slayer had struck him with her palm at the same time his body registered the feel of sheets and bedsprings. Disoriented, the hunter was unable to prevent the girl from straddling his waist. She swiftly grabbed his wrists and pinned them near his head. A moment later he was being forcibly kissed. "I've wanted to eat _you_ up since the moment I saw you," Faith purred.

"Get _off_ —"

"I could do anything I wanted to you right now," she whispered, riding over Sam's protests. Her hips swiveled over his own. "I can feel you want it. I can make you _scream_." Faith slid her hands down the man's arms. She leaned in as her fingers wrapped around his throat.

" _I could make you die_."

* * *

 **Acknowledgement** : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episodes "Bad Girls" (BtVS 3.14) and "Consequences"(BtVS 3.15).

 **Author's Note** : I debated whether or not to put a trigger warning at the beginning of the chapter. In the end, I figured if you're reading this then you know what happens to Xander in "Consequences." If you feel I'm in error for not including the caution signs let me know.


	55. Book III: Chapter 55

(1/8/2018) Happy New Year!

I had to do so much freaking research for this chapter; psychology, the effects of certain bodily injuries, etc., and so many canonical questions. There are a loooooot of suppositions made regarding that last bit so I'm open to corrections or suggestions.

I'm also having a bit of a motivational issue regarding this fic. Starting to wonder if I've bitten off more than I can chew. Some help regarding that would be appreciated!

 **Note** : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episode "Consequences"(BtVS 3.15).

Thank you **thedarkpokemaster, RHatch89, Sage of Wind Dragons,** and **Timelord2162** for the reviews! And everybody favoriting and following gets a glass of champagne!

* * *

Sam's hands reflexively yanked at Faith's, realizing too late the futility of the gesture; with her enhanced strength there was no way he could pull her off his neck. The punch he threw at the Slayer whipped her head to one side but did nothing to alleviate her grip. As his vision faded he gave a silent, desperate prayer for salvation, noting bleakly the maniacal gleam in the girl's eyes.

A moment later air was rushing back into his lungs. Sam lurched upright, dislodging an unconscious Faith from his body, and began coughing. He rubbed the growing bruises on his neck. "Thanks," he managed to croak out.

"What is going on?" demanded a puzzled Castiel.

"Give me a sec." Sam stumbled to his feet and ungracefully made his way to Faith's sink. He turned it on and, heedless of the wet and bloody garment, stuck his hand under the faucet and took some careful sips of water.

"That is not her blood," stated the angel.

"No. It's someone else's." The hunter sat back down on the bed. "Listen, can you zap us over to Angel's?"

Castiel scowled. "My power is not a method of transportation."

"Please." Sam gestured towards the afternoon sunlight drifting in from the window. "I'd ask Angel himself to come but he can't and Dean is with Buffy." At the angel's further reticence, the hunter added, testily, "Do you want to know what's going on or not?"

Anyone else, Sam thought, would have rolled their eyes. Castiel, however, merely reached out and did what was asked. As it was the first time he would experience being flown Sam had no idea what to expect. He had an eager, boyish hope that they'd be sailing through the air like Superman. For a minuscule moment the hunter thought he saw enormous black wings unfold from the angel's back. Then, disappointingly, the hunter's feet were touching down on marble flooring and the illusion was gone.

Angel, who had been sitting in a recliner reading, lifted his eyebrows at their sudden appearance. "What happened?"

Sam painfully cleared his throat. "Faith's going off the rails already. You got anything that'll hold her down?"

"Yes."

"Better get them."

* * *

The first thing Faith registered when she came to was the cold enveloping her wrists. That and she was lying at an awkward angle across a bare floor. With a clatter and clank of iron manacles she pushed herself to a sitting position and leaned her back against the wall.

There were four men arrayed in front of her, all wearing forbidding expressions. "I dunno about you," she quipped, "but this would be the first time I've taken more than two at once. But hey, I'm up to the challenge." She grinned lewdly and adjusted the view of her breasts.

Dean rolled his eyes while Sam and Angel's expressions didn't waver. The fourth, Castiel, cocked his head in confusion. "Do you mean in battle? I'm quite certain that you have fought more than two vampires at once on multiple occasions."

The other three glanced at one another. "I'm gonna tell him," Dean said with an eager smirk.

Sam gave his brother an irritated glower as Angel suggested the rest of them leave. Faith did her best to maintain her facade of lusty nonchalance as the men argued. Inside, however, her mind was in turmoil.

The Slayer hadn't slept, angelic assistance notwithstanding, and her thoughts vacillated between two separate mindsets. The first was pure, unadulterated horror at what she had done. Though there were moments, many moments, in the past where she had considered killing someone she had never gone through with it. Her parents, definitely, after one of their many alcoholic binges ended with daddy smacking mommy and then mommy smacking her. Or, after daddy had taken the family car for a permanent vacation to the bottom of the Atlantic, any of mommy's revolving door of boyfriends, particularly those who spotted the maturing little girl in the corner and decided to see if the daughter was a better ride than her mother.

Faith knew her life had spun out in a white trash cliche, down to dropping out of high school and falling into a lifestyle saturated with drugs and sex. If it hadn't been for the Slayer thing she didn't know where she'd be. Probably killed by one of those men she'd been luring into compromising positions and then robbing blind. But still, even in her darkest moment Faith had never, _ever_ , imagined that _she_ would be the one doing the killing.

Ever since she'd pelted out of the Impala the question had been whirling around and around. Why had he been there? Did he have a family that mourned him? A wife? _Children?_ Was he scared in those last moments? Had he felt pain? How much pain? Would she get caught? Would she go to jail?

Who would even care? No one took care of Faith other than Faith: the harsh conclusion she'd come to after all these years. No one cared when she showed up with new bruises, no one listened when she tried to tell them what Mark or Billy or Jacob was doing to her pre-teen self late at night, and no one had objected when the stuffy English woman had appeared and carted her away.

That last, at least, had been a blessing. Faith turned her head towards the wall at the prickle of tears. Dr. Gertrude Greenwater brought with her a sympathy that was anathema to everything the girl had known, and the patience with Faith's subsequent delinquent behavior was alarming. The newly endowed Slayer spent the first few weeks under her Watcher's tutelage trying to figure out when the false pity would end. After all, every other adult in her life had used her for their own ends, why shouldn't this woman?

Then Gertrude had found Faith in the girl's childhood home… along with the bodies of her mother and her mother's boyfriend. Mrs. Lehane's latest prize had brought with him the wonders of needles and heroin, graduating the woman from alcoholism into full blown drug addiction. Her daughter had come by, for what reason Faith couldn't fathom; after all, by this point she had taken near-permanent residence in her Watcher's spare bedroom. Now she was screaming and crying, furious and sad, taking advantage of her enhanced strength to destroy what little furniture remained in her family's rundown abode.

Gertrude waited until the storm abated before gathering her charge into her arms and letting the girl weep herself into exhaustion. When Faith came to she found herself lying on an ambulance cot wrapped in blankets. Two bodybags were being carted from her former home, a sight that was immediately blocked by a homely face topped with a severe bun. A soft, English lilt told the Slayer to go back to sleep, that everything would be taken care of, and that there was nothing she needed to worry about.

Faith came to love that woman in a way that she had never felt for her own mother, at least as far as she could remember. In a sudden reversal of fortune, the teenaged girl had gone from a mattress in a one bathroom hovel to living in a fully furnished bedroom with her own shower and toilet. She had plenty of food to eat, had _direction_ for the first time in her life, and, once the paperwork was done, someone that she was deliriously happy to call her parent.

Kakistos shattered it all.

And that was where Faith's current musings ended. As crappy as her childhood had been, despite the numerous abuses she'd been forced to endure, _nothing_ compared to what that monster had done. The Slayer squeezed her eyes shut, forced back the sound of Gertrude screaming, and turned back towards her quartet of captors in order to determine which of them was the weakest link.

Except four was being reduced to one. With a rush of wings the angel vanished. Buffy's brothers were heading for the front door. As soon as the lock clicked, Faith licked her lips and asked, "Wanted me all to yourself, big guy?"

Angel crouched down to look her in the eye. "We need to talk, killer to killer."

"Great. Can't wait for the head shrinkage. In the meantime," she growled as she yanked at her bonds, "could you let me out of these things?"

* * *

"You sure we're doing the right thing?"

Dean sighed and rested his arms on the roof of the Impala. "You got a better idea?"

Sam shrugged. "No. I just… I just wish I knew what to tell her, that's all."

"Yeah, well, we ain't exactly saints. Not like we haven't ganked our share of humans when we're takin' out demons."

"Wait," Sam said as Dean opened the driver's side door. "Listen, if Faith got called when those other Slayers died she's been doing this for less than a year. At her age we were already experts at the best place to stick a knife."

"Okay? And?"

"She's probably a lot more scared about this than she's letting on. I just don't think we should leave, in case Angel doesn't get through to her."

Dean gave another sigh, this time saturated with exasperation, before slamming his door closed. "Fine, fine. We'll—"

The hunter's assent was bitten off by a sudden pinch to his back. It was immediately followed by a surge of electricity. He could hear Sam's yells over his own, meaning that whoever (or whatever) had ambushed them had enough numbers to take them both at the same time. Thoughts of painful retribution ran through his head just before someone's fist smacked into his skull.

* * *

Someone was calling his name. Someone familiar. And irritating. "Bluh," Dean managed.

"He's still out of it," Sam said. "You sure you're not, you know, bleeding out internally?"

"I'm not," an irate Angel replied.

Two sets of hands gathered under Dean's shoulders and heaved him to his feet. The motion helped to clear his head. "The hell happened?" he slurred.

"Wesley contacted the Watcher's Council," Angel said through gritted teeth. "They took Faith."

* * *

Wesley was somewhat gratified and somewhat apprehensive over the sight of a struggling Faith being hauled, manacled and gagged, into their nondescript van. He turned towards the outside consultant and said, "Your help in this matter is deeply appreciated. We were quite certain, given this particular Slayer's mannerisms and history, that there would be far more trouble. Thankfully it appears that her 'friends' did a bit of the work for us."

The other man nodded. "While our organizations disagree on whether or not the Slayer should continue to even _exist_ , problems of this nature should always bring us together."

The Watcher bristled. "Still, you do realize that per our treaty she remains under _our_ purview."

"Naturally, but perhaps once the Council has made its decision you might think to hand her over to us. Our facilities are far superior to handle someone of her… unique situation."

The gentleman's smile made Wesley's uneasiness deepen. He'd heard of the sort of training the other organization went through; a strict regimen of schooling and physical rigor that often culminated not in washouts (as it sometimes happened at the Watcher's Academy), but in fatalities. Those that survived to graduate, it seemed, became cold, calculating machines, ones willing to overlook the humanity in the supernatural in order to get to results.

For the first time since he'd called overseas, Wesley began to doubt whether or not he was doing the right thing. "I will bring it up with Mr. Travers."

"Very well." A hand was proffered. "Always a pleasure to work with the Watcher's Council."

Wesley shook it, hiding his distaste behind professionalism. "Yes, thank you, Mr. Ketch. I suppose we owe the Men of Letters a debt after this."

"Nonsense. Just remember to keep us in mind when the Slayer's sentencing comes around." Ketch nodded in farewell and headed for his car where a stringy, middle-aged woman in a stiff pantsuit was waiting for him.

"Not bloody likely," Wesley murmured to himself as the SUV drove off. The sooner he and the other Council members boarded their plane the better.

* * *

The Hellmouth was absolutely _fascinating_ , Balthazar had decided. Besides the abundance of vampires there was a host of other monsters hiding out under the radar and just merrily going about their business. Just at the high school he'd spotted among the student body a werewolf, several witches, and, in the teacher's lounge, a shapeshifter on the faculty. Not to mention the Slayer and her group of hanger-ons (which included the spotted werewolf and a burgeoning witch).

He was a little curious, however, after realizing that there was only _one_ Slayer attending what passed for their educational facility despite what he gleaned as the relative similarity in their ages; from his observations most ape progenitors forced their spawn to endure these near-prisons until they had reached the end of physical development. After a bit of reconnaissance Balthazar discovered her having a tête-à-tête with the other Slayer's bloodsucking boyfriend.

The ensuing scenes were incredibly entertaining, particularly the part where those irritating brothers were subdued. When the more _interesting_ Slayer was bundled up and carted away, Balthazar discovered a solution to his own current issues.

A panicked, supernaturally endowed teenager running amok would be the perfect distraction for those demons that were still on his tail.

He snapped his fingers and the girl's restraints unlocked. Chaos ensued and, as the proud instigator, Balthazar sat back to watch.

* * *

Early evening rolled around before Willow could give her findings to Giles and Buffy (while pointedly ignoring Xander's presence). Hacking into the Mayor's files had revealed nothing. As far as Willow could tell Allen Finch was merely the mayor's secretary/gopher. She did, however, discover that Mayor Wilkins had a consultant on his payroll, one Mr. Oliver Klozoff, a pseudonym that had Xander snickering. The picture that came up on his ID, however, was the vampire they all knew as Trick.

Suspicion was immediately removed from the poor possessed Allen Finch and transferred to his employer. Before they could speculate as to who, what, or why, Sam, Dean, and Angel limped into the library. "What are you guys doing here?" Buffy wondered. "Shouldn't you be, you know, getting all mental with Faith?"

"Wesley's a fucking douchbag," Dean grumbled as he plopped down into a chair. He immediately hissed in pain.

Buffy hustled over in concern. After a moment she plucked out a small metal barb from the back of his flannel. "What the heck is this?"

"A freaking taser thingie."

"The Council took her," Giles inferred as Buffy yanked another metal piece from her brother's backside.

"Yes," Angel replied. "We need to stop him."

While Buffy's brothers agreed with the sentiment, her friends did not. Faith's one night stand with Xander had left a stain on his friendship with Willow, a mark that neither of them were ready to forgive. Sam and Dean, however, knew intimately what it was like to have horrors outside of their control visited upon them and were more inclined to pity Faith's circumstances.

"At the very least," Sam argued, "we could take her with _us_. She could maybe learn something to vent all that anger out on instead of imploding over here."

"Yeah," Xander scoffed, "I'm sure that she _won't_ be grabbing one of those weapons out of your trunk and killing you with them."

"So getting thrown in jail is a better solution? She needs help! She's a _kid_ , one that's experienced things no kid should." Sam began ticking points off his fingers. "She killed an innocent person, that bitch Post came and used her, Kakistos did God knows what to her first Watcher right in front of her eyes! And before that, who knows what her life was like?"

Pensive silence followed Sam's speech. "None of that's going to matter," Buffy said, "unless we can stop Wesley."

The library doors creaked open. "That's no longer an issue."

Incredulous, Giles asked, "You let her get away?"

"'Let' wouldn't be the way I'd phrase it," Wesley objected. "She somehow got out of her restraints."

Dean, who was closest, grabbed the Watcher's lapels and slammed him up against the nearest pillar. "You stupid son of a bitch!" he yelled in the man's face. "What the _fuck_ were you trying to do?"

In a surprising show of stoicism, Wesley glared right back. "I was trying to _save her_."

"Good work," snarled Angel as he peered over Dean's shoulder. "First, you terrorize her, then you put her back in the streets."

"You've probably killed any chance we had to keep a handle on this," Sam said quietly.

"You've probably destroyed her," Buffy added scathingly.

"Enough," Giles gently reprimanded as Dean reluctantly released the young Watcher. "We need to find Faith."

"I'm going to start at the train station," Buffy stated. "She said it's how she got here, maybe she's planning on heading out the same way."

"I'm coming with you," Sam told his sister.

"I'll try the airport," Dean said.

"Then I'll do the bus station," Angel announced.

"Willow, Xander," Buffy ordered, "can you guys try her motel? And then start with the cemeteries."

"Yeah, no problem," Xander replied.

The group began filing out of the library past a remorseful Wesley. "What can I do?" he asked softly. "I want to help fix this."

"How about you go fuck yourself?" Dean suggested as he passed.

As the doors swung shut behind Buffy's eldest brother, Wesley turned towards his predecessor. "Was I wrong?"

"According to the Watcher's precepts, no," Giles replied. "But if you haven't noticed, things aren't quite so black and white as they would have had us believe."

Wesley hung his head, then looked up, confused, when the other man unlocked the security cage. "What are you doing?"

"Faith knows about the ring," Giles said grimly as he pulled the object from a warded box. "Your poorly conceived actions have probably made her desperate. Demons may not be able to enter but it won't hold her back. It might be time we consider returning this to the angels."

"Oh, no no no!" Balthazar exclaimed as he appeared behind Wesley. "That's a _terrible_ idea!"

The young Watcher let out a shriek. Balthazar's eyebrows lifted, apparently truly startled at the noise. His astonishment quickly became amusement as Wesley's subsequent flailing caused the man to slam into the center table and fall to the floor. "That was worth the trip," the angel said downwards.

Giles quickly put the ring back and slammed the container shut. "Explain yourself."

Balthazar's facade of insouciance and obnoxiousness suddenly fell away. For the first time since they'd met, Giles felt he was seeing the actual, ancient celestial being housed in human flesh. It seemed… tired. "Do you know what's about to happen?" he asked softly.

"The Apocalypse."

The angel nodded. "Not all of my brothers and sisters are like Castiel, precious innocent guardian that he is. There are quite a few that think that Lucifer rising from Hell is both inevitable and desirable."

"And humanity?" the still prone Wesley squeaked. "What happens to us when the devil walks the Earth?"

"You become acceptable collateral damage." Balthazar waved a hand. "Don't get me wrong; I don't care a whit for most of you lanky apes." His lips twisted into a wry smirk. "But some of you are so _very_ flexible."

* * *

The conversation between the Watchers and the angel meandered to a close, but Castiel had stopped listening. In the end the ring was placed back into its hiding spot and the library was emptied.

He strode out from behind the stacks of books. A wave of his hand and the lock to the cage opened. The demon wards were formidable but, regretfully, did nothing to keep angels out. His hand hovered over the warded box that contained the Ring of Nebuchadnezzar.

Everything in Castiel told him that he should be taking the weapon back to Heaven with Balthazar in tow, but he _still_ couldn't bring himself to do it. He remembered, long ago, learning with Balthazar, tutoring him when the less-skilled angel had fallen behind, their friendship lasting through Castiel's subsequent leap in rank. The pair's unusual tendency to _question_ had led to quite a few joint disciplinary actions, but neither had ever held the other to blame. If anything, such incidents served to tighten their bond even further.

Castiel' hand moved from the box to bridge of his nose as the ghostly memory of a glinting object descending upon his eye flitted across his vision. He shook his head and dispelled it.

Before taking his vessel, Castiel would have never hesitated to do what was mandated. Now he was beholden to both Jimmy Novak's inherent sense of morality and the environmental factors that were affecting his own perception of the world. What had Buffy Summers said? That no matter what Balthazar had done, he'd been a friend. Friends were important to this Slayer; he'd seen what lengths she'd gone to in order to protect Xander Harris and Willow Rosenberg. Moreover he'd even seen those two humans put themselves on the line to protect the Winchesters who were, peripherally, as Buffy's brothers, their friends as well.

The angel's hand fell to his side.

No, he couldn't do it. If he took the ring back there would be questions, and that would lead eventually to Balthazar. The punishment would be dreadful, perhaps lethal. He couldn't bear the thought of his friend in peril because he had exposed the angel's crime.

Castiel shut the cage and replaced the lock. After a moment of consideration he added Enochian warding to the woven metal.

Someone pinged his subconscious; a prayer specifically aimed at him from Slayer, one lined with the same desperation her younger brother had evinced. Castiel hastily spread his wings and flew off, hoping he wasn't too late.

* * *

 **Author's Note** : The consensus regarding vampires and whether they show up on photographs… there's no consensus. Best argument I found was that digital and traditional photography/videography are different. Since digital doesn't require mirrors, BOOM vampire imagery.

Again, lots of supposition on my part regarding Faith's past. I think her father is supposed to still be alive, but meh.


	56. Book III: Chapter 56

(1/29/2018) A relatively short chapter, but I hit a literary stopping point and had to hit the brakes. Promise the next chapter will be up soon!

I have a new Supernatural not-a-crossover. If anyone is interested, please check it out! I could use some critiques.

Thank you **RHatch89, demon19027, thedarkpokemaster, IoSolUno, philly cheese dude, Sage of Wind Dragons,** and **Sal the Guest** for the reviews! And all you favoriters and followers get baby pandas!

* * *

After insuring that both Castiel and the humans had exited the library, Balthazar returned. He stared, irritated, at the new, glowing sigils now set onto the metal. "Bloody hell, Cassie," he muttered to himself as he checked over and over for any errors. His old friend had always been thorough, however, and the security cage was locked tight.

As he was contemplating whether or not to merely destroy the structure the lights began to flicker in a manner that signaled one of his brothers or sisters. Balthazar quickly spread his wings to leave, but hesitated once he felt the enormity of the power that was arriving. Flight was not going to be an option at this point; _this_ sibling could probably pinpoint his presence in a heartbeat.

"I don't suppose you're here to help," Balthazar said airily as he turned towards his elder brother.

"Mmmaybe. Decided to check out why the Hellmouth was giving out such weird vibes." The archangel's tone darkened. "Give me a good reason why I should do anything other than smite your ass for stealing."

"Because I'm fairly certain that you're here on Earth and not up in Heaven for the same reason that I am: neither of us want to get caught up in this feud between big brother one and two."

"Oh, that? That's happening whether we want it to or not."

An ominous statement; Balthazar braced himself for whatever his sibling might have in mind. Out of all the archangels this one had always been known as the most capricious. He decided to take a gamble. "Still. They're—"

"—Family, I know. Total suckage, am I right?" The newcomer sighed. "I guess you do what you can. I'm, you know, assuming that's why you've been walking around with Virgil's favorite toys."

Balthazar sighed with relief. "Quite so."

"You got a lot more balls than I ever gave you credit for, Bizzy. Bravo!"

Still not entirely convinced he wasn't about to be obliterated, Balthazar tried for a nonchalant, "Thank you."

"Well, then!" The archangel clapped his hands and rubbed them together. "Let's make a bargain. You keep my secret and I keep yours. Deal?"

There really was very little alternative. Regardless, the proposal was immensely appealing and corresponded with what the angel had planned on doing anyways. "Deal."

The archangel snapped his fingers. Several key sections of woven metal fell away, disrupting Castiel's carefully placed wards while maintaining the integrity of the structure. "Remember, bro. Lucifer and Michael might be the bigger players in this game, but you shouldn't forget that I can still squash you like a bug."

Balthazar swallowed nervously before nodding in acknowledgement. "I appreciate the warning."

"Hey, what are big brothers for?"

* * *

Castiel arrived just as Faith was yanking her stake from the back of a vampire. The creature had been holding a red rope around Buffy's neck that immediately fell slack. "Oh no," the creature said, his eyes wide with shock. "No, this is no good at all."

The vampire disintegrated and the pair of Slayers stared at each other, wordlessly concluding their heated pre-battle discussion. Faith spun on her heel to leave and jumped at seeing Castiel. Rather than give her usual quip or inappropriate remark she merely gave the angel a tired glower before continuing on her way.

Buffy, however, sat down heavily on a nearby shipping crate and ripped the vampire's garrote, a silk red tie, from her neck. She rubbed the growing bruise and ruminated darkly at the ground. "Are you all right?" Castiel asked as he approached.

"Dandy," she croaked. The angel tapped her on the forehead and cleared her injuries. Buffy blinked several times, disoriented. "Thanks."

"What happened here?"

"From what I can tell? Trick," she explained as she kicked at the dust now piled at her feet, "decided to put an end to his Slayer issues by taking us out at the same time. Don't know if it was because his boss, the Mayor, said so or if he was just being a dick."

After a few moments of awkward silence, Castiel stated, "You prayed to me."

Buffy cocked an eyebrow at the angel's puzzled tone. "You told me I could. No backsies." When he became even more perplexed, she decided it was time to move on. "Do you know where Giles is at?"

"His home."

"Can you take me there?"

"Yes."

When nothing happened, Buffy did her best to refrain from smacking herself in the forehead in exasperation. "Will you please take me there _now_?"

"Oh. Yes. My apologies."

* * *

Mayor Wilkins spoke with Faith Lehane for about an hour, laying down their future plans and lining out compensation. He found himself _liking_ the girl, much to his dismay, which made breaking the seal surrounding the Slayers even more difficult. Oh well. Perhaps she'd show some dislikable trait sometime soon and make it all easier. After all, the girl was an undisciplined, psychologically damaged mess. No doubt she'd show some disreputable characteristic sooner rather than later.

In the meantime, that flea-infested motel she was staying at _had_ to go. Wilkins opened a drawer and pulled out a folder detailing the properties he'd bought over the years. Yes. This one would be absolutely _perfect_. In the morning he would have to go shopping and get the place all ready for his newest protégée.

As the Mayor began a neat to-do list, a familiar foulness began to permeate a dark corner of his office. Wilkins put on his most genial smile and cried, "Crowley! It's been a century. How's it been?"

The demon emerged from the shadows, his hands nonchalantly stuffed into his pockets, and gave a wry smile. His current vessel was of average height, brown haired and brown eyed, with an immaculately tailored black suit and tie. "Oh, you know," he said in a gravelly English accent, "here a soul, there a soul, everywhere a soul, soul."

"Yes," the Mayor agreed as he leaned against his desk. "I'd heard you'd become the King of the Crossroads. Bravo! I'm _very_ impressed. It shows drive, gumption. Something very few young people have these days." He shook his head sadly. "They just don't know the value of an honest day's work. But I'm assuming you're not here for a chitchat."

"Lilith sent me. She wants you to hold off a bit on that whole Slayer-seal business."

"Oh? What for?"

"She needs a moment or two to… think about our current course."

The Mayor gave a derisive huff. "I see. Cold feet, I suppose."

"Well, we both know how this little play will end."

"With poor Lily dead as a doornail?"

Crowley smirked as the Mayor contemplated whether or not to acquiesce. When Azazel approached him all those years ago and requested his aid he'd agreed without a second thought. After all, Wilkins owed both the Prince and Lucifer a great deal. Therefore it was only fair, not to mention prudent, to go along with the proposal. Their power would grow, Heaven would be subjugated, and humanity destroyed or enslaved. Cigars all around!

On the other hand, a delay would give him a bit more time to explore these strange paternal urges. Besides, Azazel was dead, and what was a few more years to the millions that Lucifer had already spent in the Cage? "All right," said the Mayor. "As long as you all keep me in the loop."

"Not to worry," Crowley replied. "Just make sure you don't make any… _unscheduled_ moves."

They shook hands. Their superiors might plot and scheme in their respective realms but Earth was _their_ prerogative and burden. Neither Crowley nor Wilkins, however, denied that their position in the grand scheme of things, while higher than a foot soldier, was certainly not as a high as a General. A lieutenant, perhaps even a captain, but still expendable. To survive they'd played with whomever was most advantageous to their own personal gains. It was a partnership that had lasted for over two hundred years, and they really looked forward to a hundred more.

"We really should catch up sometime!" Wilkins said jovially. "Dinner?"

"Sounds grand. I'll even provide the meal."

"Do try to find some fresher ingredients this time. If I remember correctly… when was it, 1953? Those toddler hearts had gone soft and squishy." The Mayor shuddered. "Horrible texture."

"No worries. I'll make sure we wait until the very last minute."

Wilkins gave a hearty chuckle. "Excellent! You let me know when that pretty Lilith of yours gives you a night off."

"Ta."

* * *

Before speaking with Giles, Buffy called her brothers and friends to tell them that she'd found Faith and that things were as settled as they could be for now. The blonde Slayer was still uncertain about her dark haired counterpart's intentions, but at least Faith hadn't run. "I'm not going to give up on her," Buffy proclaimed.

Giles smiled slightly. "Then I think she stands a chance."

Her brothers met up with her outside of the librarian's home. "Hey," Dean said. "We're heading out."

"Where to?" his sister asked tiredly.

"Minnesota," answered Sam. "Friend of dad's called. He thinks there's ghouls in town."

"Neat. What are those?"

"People eaters," Dean supplied, "and not the purple kind."

"Normally they eat the dead," Sam added, "but dad's friend thinks these ones are going for fresher meals."

Buffy looked up from one brother to the other. "You realize we're talking about things that eat people like other people talk about, you know, getting rid of rats in their house. Our lives are weird."

Sam huffed out a laugh. He took a few steps forward and engulfed his sister in a hug. "We'll be back soon. Be careful."

"Aren't I always?"

"No."

Dean embraced her next. "Start salting windows and doors at night if you haven't been already."

"Okay, okay. Mom's going to _love_ that."

Once the Impala had roared off Buffy headed home. Her mother was fast asleep, thankfully, which meant that she could wait until morning to explain the lines of condiments being spread everywhere.

Bed was calling loudly. Buffy did her nightly ablutions and snuggled down into her comforter. Thank goodness for the weekend; she could sleep until noon. She turned over… and _someone_ sat down on the edge of her bed. "Cass," she mumbled into her pillow, "this had better be _really_ important."

"I must ask you something."

"Uh, okay." Curious, Buffy sat up. The angel had his back to her, his shoulders hunched and his elbows on his knees. If she didn't know any better she would have thought Castiel was about to confess to some heinous crime.

"You are defiant. You repeatedly ignore the wishes of your Watcher. You have even defied the wants of your mother and brothers. Disobedience appears to be a vital part of your nature."

Buffy bristled. "Gee. _Thanks_. I think."

"Why do you do it?"

She blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Why do you disobey?"

The Slayer sighed. "I don't _always_ do that. Just sometimes what they want and what's the right thing to do doesn't exactly line up."

"So you go your own way. Make your own decisions."

"Well, yeah. Don't you?"

"No." Castiel's head lifted as he looked away off in the distance. "But I am considering it."

Buffy's eyebrows shot up. Every previous opportunity the angel had had to go his own way had been rebuffed. "Why?"

"Because what Heaven wants and what is the right thing to do does not exactly line up."

"Copycat." Buffy sighed again. "Why are you telling _me_?"

"I know no one else who might understand." Castiel grimaced. "Anna… Anna urged me to think for myself, but she gave me no guidance. Sam…" The angel swallowed. "I cannot go to Sam."

"Well, what about Dean?"

Castiel shook his head. "Dean is the Righteous Man. For him, all is worth losing for humanity… or his family. He does not understand that if I do this, if I disobey, I give up all that I have ever known: my home, my family, my place in this world."

Buffy was taken aback. "Just for thinking for yourself?"

With great distaste, the angel said, " _Lucifer_ disobeyed."

"Ah." A piece of the puzzle, the one spelling out the "why" of this whole blind obedience enigma, became clear. "So what's to say that you can't find a new place to be?"

"What?" Castiel finally sat up straight, if only to stare incredulously at the Slayer. The sight was priceless; Buffy wished she could grab her phone for a picture.

"You never even _considered_ that?"

"No." After a moment, the angel looked away, pensive. "Thank you."

"That's me," Buffy said with a yawn. "Comforting-idea-girl." Wings flapped and stirred the air. Relieved to finally get a chance to rest, the Slayer drifted to sleep, only slightly apprehensive over what might happen to Castiel if he decided to forge his own way.

* * *

The chest Balthazar dropped onto the floor of the Master's former prison was, in and of itself, nothing special. It was of American military make and meant to withstand a nuclear explosion, but easily obtained through government surplus websites. What was truly extraordinary was its contents. He opened the lid and examined his ill-gotten loot.

The Ring of Nebuchadnezzar was laid on top.

Direct underneath was the Staff of Moses.

Lot's Salt.

Gabriel's Horn of Truth.

A piece of the Ark of the Covenant.

The Sword of Peter.

The tip of the Lance of Longinus.

The Dagger of Ehud.

There were others, but he wasn't sure of their names; it had been eons since some of them had been created. Honestly, nomenclatures weren't quite so important as their purposes, of which Balthazar knew every single one.

He snapped his fingers. Sigils, painted on every conceivable surface, glowed in the darkness. Both demon and angel warding were present, and enough witchcraft had been laid at the doorway to prevent any (intact) human from entering. The angel stuffed his hands in his pockets and sighed.

He'd known the minute that the orders had come down that the Apocalypse was on its way. _Rescue the Righteous Man from Hell before the seal can be broken._ The end times were nigh, and Balthazar figured the only thing he could do to help things from spiraling out of control was to keep their more hazardous weaponry from the zealots.

During the mission, those brothers and sisters who fell, upon being gravely wounded, would be consumed by the unholy miasma exuding from the Pit. Perfect cover for an escape. Balthazar's plan to allow himself to be injured, plummet most of the way, and fly off before impact had gone off without a hitch. His position in the angelic hierarchy was low enough that he wouldn't be missed. By the time Heaven realized that their arsenal had been plundered he could be in France entangled in several pairs of lusciously soft legs.

Quite unexpectedly, Balthazar discovered that he _had_ been missed. Castiel's woeful expression at discovering his duplicity had been cutting. They'd been friends since the beginning; their natural inclination to question making them fellow outcasts from their happily obedient brethren. Their relationship even lasted after the other angel's martial abilities had shoved him up in rank. Balthazar hadn't been jealous; he'd been proud. Little Cassie, all grown up and off to destroy people.

The angel rubbed his head and sighed. It had seemed like _such_ a good idea at the time, the whole theft and hide thing. Risking himself for the greater good and all of that. Lucifer was going to rise, and, so he had been told, nothing anyone could do would stop it. Balthazar's gesture might very well be meaningless; the power of all these artifacts _combined_ were less than those of a single one of his four eldest brothers.

But he could at least say he did _something_.

Well, Balthazar told himself as he shut the trunk, it was well past time to be gone. Sunnydale was relatively close to Los Angeles and Hollywood was just the place to indulge in a lengthy bout of hedonism.

Might as well enjoy himself before Lucifer and Michael turned the entire planet to ash.

* * *

 **Acknowledgement** : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episode "Consequences"(BtVS 3.15).

 **Author's Note** : Lilith's "deal" with Sam in the Chuck episode made it clear (at least to me) that she didn't want to go through with the whole busting Lucifer out of the box thing. In fact she tells the demon at the altar that they were saving the world. Well, that's my theory and I'm running with it! So, nyeh.


	57. Book III: Chapter 57

(2/1/2018) I'm almost sure that I'm going to kill all the in-fic dates I put in. Or at least most of them. I sort of wrote myself into a hole of "not enough years are passing." Unless someone has a strong opinion about it…?

Thank you **RHatch89, Sage of Wind Dragons,** and **IoSolUno** for the reviews! And all you favoriters and followers get squeaky balls!

* * *

 **MISSING** Adam Milligan

Age: 19

Race: WhiteSex: MaleHair Color: BlondeEye Color: BlueHeight: 6'Weight: 155 lbs.Missing From: Windom, Minnesota

Last seen wearing: Black t-shirt / blue button-up / jeans / army green jacket

Adam was last seen heading home at approximately 1930 in the town of Windom, Minnesota. Reports may put him in the vicinity of Lakeview Cemetery. Adam has short, dark blonde hair.

If you have any information please contact the Windom Police at .

* * *

 _April 2008_

* * *

SAM: Hey, Buff', what's—

BUFFY: ( _shouting_ ) _DID YOU KNOW ABOUT THIS BOOK?_

DEAN: ( _in the background_ ) What book?

BUFFY: ( _shouting_ ) _THIS STUPID BOOK ABOUT THE THREE OF US AND EVERY SINGLE STUPID DETAIL ABOUT OUR LIVES?_

SAM: Jesus, Buffy. Tone it down a notch.

BUFFY: ( _angrily, but at a normal volume_ ) Sam. Angel is _naked_ in this book.

DEAN: ( _bursts out laughing_ )

BUFFY: Oh, you think this is funny, do you? Guess what? There is a full frontal description of _you_ in chapter… ( _paper rustling_ ) seven. I now know every tiny detail of your supposedly "massive" peen and I can _never_ erase this from my brain!

DEAN: ( _serious tone_ ) We need to look into this. _Now_.

SAM: Why? So you can read about your dick?

BUFFY: Yours is in there, too, Sam.

SAM: What? Oh, come on!

BUFFY: I figure they had the decency to take into account that I'm jailbait in most states and left me out. But—( _paper rustling_ )—guys he even knows about me being the Slayer. And Sam dying. And Dean going to Hell.

SAM: Hold up. ( _clacking of keyboard keys_ ) What's it called?

BUFFY: "Supernatural." Author's name is Carver Edlund.

DEAN: How the hell did you find these anyways?

BUFFY: _Xander_. One fell out of his locker. Thought he was getting into kissy books when I saw the cover.

DEAN: Dude. Seriously? ( _to Sam_ ) _That's_ the book?

SAM: Wow. Look at my abs. And your biceps. And Buffy's boobs.

DEAN BUFFY: Shut up.

SAM: Okay, we'll look into this and call you back.

BUFFY: Fine.

( _2 hours later…_ )

DEAN: Hey, Buff'.

BUFFY: What did you find out?

SAM: Found the publisher. Carver Edlund's a pseudonym so we're going to go talk to her, see if we can get his real name.

BUFFY: Anything else?

SAM: Uh… nope. Nothing really.

DEAN: Except for—

SAM: Oh, don't tell her about that!

BUFFY: What?

DEAN: Nothing.

BUFFY: What. Is. It.

DEAN: There's fans making stories that frigging put me and Sam together. Like _together_ together.

BUFFY: They do know you're brothers, right?

SAM: And, um, together… with you.

BUFFY: ( _shrieking tone_ ) _WHAT?_

DEAN: Oh, and just… don't look up art made by fans, that's all.

BUFFY: What? Why?

DEAN: Uh…

SAM: Well, you know how you said that you weren't part of the nudity-fest?

BUFFY: Yeah?

SAM: So… they also kinda… made their own versions.

BUFFY: Of?

SAM: Well, you.

BUFFY: Me what? Me _naked?_

DEAN: Yup. Doesn't stop there.

BUFFY: Oh, God. What?

SAM: Just… trust us. Don't look.

BUFFY: ( _clacking of keyboard keys_ ) Too late. ( _5 seconds of silence_ ) Oh. Oh _no_. ( _laptop slaps closed_ )

DEAN: Toldja not to look, dumbass.

BUFFY: You're going to tell me what happens when you find this guy, right?

DEAN: Yeah.

BUFFY: And you'll send me lots of pictures of his broken and bloody body when you're done with him?

DEAN: Uh…

SAM: We need to at least figure out how he's doing it first.

BUFFY: Okay. But then it's all bruise-ville and punchiness, right?

DEAN: Fuck yes.

* * *

( _Conversation between Castiel and Naamah/Anya, alley behind The Bronze, Sunnydale, CA_ )

"What have you done?"

"I have only tried to reclaim my Grace! You have trapped me in this mortal form—"

"Enlisting the aid of a witch? Bringing forth a creature of that other world? Have you no sense of propriety? You have Fallen far, Naamah."

"You speak of Falling? I see it in your eyes, Castiel. The _uncertainty_. The want to _question_. The idea that what our brothers and sisters want is _wrong_. Your very thoughts cross into blasphemy!"

"I am not the one who nearly disrupted the flow of reality!"

"Then give me back my Grace! I will put the vampire Willow Rosenberg back and trouble you no longer."

"Do you truly expect me to believe you?"

"Agh! I hate this! I hate being mortal! I cannot fly, I am stuck at an age that denies me access to drink, and I am flunking math!"

"I do not have the time for this. Fix it, Naamah, or I will do more than just take your Grace."

* * *

 _May 2008_

* * *

( _Voicemail left on the phone of the demon known as Ruby_ )

SAM: Where the hell are you, Ruby? This isn't funny anymore. I'm all out. Stop whatever you're doing. Call me. I need _more_.

* * *

( _Phone call from Buffy Summers to the vampire known as Angel_ )

ANGEL: Buffy. What is it?

BUFFY: This is going to sound crazy, but can you go to that old factory? Not the one that Spike was using, the one that was for, like, fish-can thingies?

ANGEL: Why? What's going on?

BUFFY: Slayer dream. I think Cass is in trouble.

ANGEL: Demons?

BUFFY: No.

ANGEL: Oh. ( _2 seconds of silence_ ) I'm not sure what you think I can do.

BUFFY: Can you just look? Please? I'd go but Giles is worried that Zachariah might be there and, you know, last time he broke my leg… ( _sigh_ ) and-and you're the only one I trust to _not_ go charging in and getting dead.

ANGEL: Okay. I promise: I'll just look.

BUFFY: ( _relieved sigh_ ) Thank you.

* * *

( _Phone call from Buffy Summers to Dean Winchester_ )

DEAN: Hey, Buff'. What's up?

BUFFY: You guys need to get here. Now.

DEAN: Uh, okay? Is it the Mayor? Or Faith?

BUFFY: C) None of the above. It's Castiel.

DEAN: Don't tell me he's in your frigging bedroom again, 'cuz I told him—

BUFFY: No no no no no _listen!_ There was some kinda fight in a warehouse near here. Angel went to go check for me and found major damage, like wings burned on the walls and those weird circles and scribbles everywhere.

DEAN: Sounds like angel-on-angel violence.

BUFFY: Yeah, well, Angel found Cass there. Except it wasn't Cass. Like, it was a Cass-shaped thing without Cass inside.

DEAN: Okay, that was as clear as mud. Mind clearing that up?

BUFFY: It was just his _vessel_. He says his name is Jimmy Novak and other than eating, like, three helpings of my dinner he keeps asking to go back to his family. I need some help.

DEAN: That's… really freaking weird. We're in Idaho. Can you watch him until morning? Make sure he doesn't take off?

BUFFY: Yeah, no problem. Where's Sam?

DEAN: Out getting food.

BUFFY: Oh. Okay, see you soon.

* * *

 **Acknowledgment** : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episode "The Rapture"(SPN 4.20).

 **Author's Note** : I had to give a little blurb about poor Adam. It's highly unlikely he'll show up again. I mean how big of a horndog could John Winchester be?


	58. Book III: Chapter 58

(2/18/2018) Agh!! The name Anael got used in the show! I found a replacement, but agh!! **Anya** is now **Naamah** which works too, fallen angel of prostitutes and all of that. Working on backtracking all mentions. Anyways, shorter chapter again. I apologize! The longer ones will come soon. Hopefully.

Guest Reviewer: Thanks for the note but I didn't realize I was Dean bashing 0_o

Thank you **Timelord2162, jkmp28, RHatch89, missmeow1968, thedarkpokemaster, IoSolUno,** and **Sage of Wind Dragons** for the review! And all you followers and favoriters, please leave a little something to help the motivation keep going!

* * *

In the morning Buffy, her mother, and Jimmy Novak were sitting at the Summers' kitchen table uncomfortably sipping coffee when the Winchesters finally showed. "Finally," breathed their sister. She stood from the table and yanked open their front door to greet her brothers on the porch.

"Hey, Buff'," Dean greeted warmly as he gave his sister a hug.

Sam did the same as soon as she was released. "So what's going on?"

Buffy began to explain when her mother suddenly cried, "No, wait!" A mug clattered to the floor before hasty footsteps approached.

"Take me home," Jimmy demanded as he pushed himself into their conference. "I have a wife and a daughter. It's been _months_ and I want to see them!"

Sam appeared annoyed but Dean was unable to hide his shock. The clear tone, the frantic gestures, even the fact that the man was only wearing the suit and tie that was normally under his signature trenchcoat were all so inconsistent with Castiel that the eldest of the siblings had a hard time accepting the change. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?"

"There's a good chance you have a bull's-eye on your back."

"What?" Jimmy scoffed. "From who?"

"Demons."

"Like Anna?" Buffy surmised. "Angel vessel that they can get pokey and stabby with?"

Dean nodded. "We think so."

"Yeah, but Cass is, like, nowhere in there. Right?"

" _Yes_ ," Jimmy uttered firmly. He threw his hands up and let them drop. "Look, I'm done, okay? With demons, angels, _all of it_. I just want to go _home_. I've been shot and stabbed and healed, and my body has been dragged all over the Earth. By some miracle, I'm out, and I am _done_. I've given enough, okay?"

"Look," Sam snapped, "all we're saying is that until we figure this out, the safest place is with us."

Buffy peered suspiciously at her uncharacteristically irritable brother. Before she could ask what was wrong, Jimmy shoved past her and began walking down the driveway. "Where the heck are you going?" she called.

The man kept moving as he shouted back, "To catch a bus to Illinois so I can see my wife and daughter, okay?"

"No, you're not," Sam corrected as he hustled in front of Jimmy and put a hand on his chest. "You're just going to put those people in danger."

"Am I a prisoner?"

Sam hesitated but Buffy filled in the gap. "More like an extended guest that we can't let go home and we might have to lock up. But really, not a prisoner." She blinked when both of her brothers cast her withering looks. "What?"

"I'm telling you," Jimmy snarled, his frustration mounting, "I don't know _anything_!"

Dean frowned. "Don't think the demons are gonna care one way or the other."

"Can I ask something?" Joyce wondered from the porch. When the others all looked at her she tentatively continued. "If he's just Mr. Novak, what happened to Castiel?"

"Don't know," Buffy replied, "but I think I know someone that might."

* * *

As it was a Thursday, Buffy was expected in class, a non-negotiable obligation as far as her mother was concerned. Her brothers offered to drive her to school and, at the same time, confer with Giles regarding Castiel's abrupt departure. During lunch, Buffy said, she could bring them her source: a girl she claimed was, like Anna had been, an angel lacking Grace. The chaos of the midday meal would serve to cover their movements and hopefully screen them from any celestials peeping about.

Much to Sam and Dean's combined chagrin Wesley was still in residence. Their aggravation turned to grudging acceptance once Giles explained why the young man was still there: on the young man's assurances that he could reform Faith the Watcher's Council had rescinded the incarceration order. Wesley's pledge, however, was merely for the Council's sake; in reality he was taking guidance from Giles on how to better perform his duties on the field while Buffy and her friends kept a watchful eye on the volatile Slayer.

Once Giles and his counterpart had been filled in on current events they settled to wait in the library. Jimmy found himself under the curious scrutiny of a fascinated Wesley. "Extraordinary!" exclaimed the Watcher as he leaned into the man's personal space. "I wonder, are there any permanent, debilitating effects to being an angel's vessel?"

"Other than being examined like a bug under a microscope, no." Jimmy pushed Wesley to one side. "How long is this going to take? When can I go home?"

"Have patience," Giles said gently. "I realize that you've been through much—"

Jimmy huffed out a wry laugh. "You don't know the half of it."

"Yes, well, be that as it may, we should find out what has happened to Castiel and whether or not you truly are in danger. If there are demons after you they won't hesitate to go after your family as leverage."

"I don't know _anything_!" Jimmy repeated desperately.

"They don't know that."

"And believe me," Dean added, "they're gonna make damn sure that you're telling the truth. That means _vivisection_ if they're feeling generous."

"Fine," Jimmy groused angrily as he stormed into Giles' office and slammed the door.

Dean lifted his eyebrows at the rest of them. "That went well."

"Can't blame him," Sam added. "I mean, it can't be as bad as being possessed by a demon, but it still means he's spent all this time away from his loved ones."

"Well there's nothing we can do now," Giles said wearily, "I suppose we should just settle in to wait."

"Do you know who Buffy is bringing in?"

"Yes." The librarian's lips thinned as he recalled the incident that had brought the young woman to their attention. "She goes by Anya Jenkins. Her angelic name is Naamah."

* * *

Naamah began scowling fiercely at Jimmy from the moment she walked into the library. The poor man had no idea what to do about the relatively petite young woman who clearly wanted to kill him. In lieu of confrontation, however, Jimmy did his best to ignore her.

Buffy snapped her fingers in front of the ex-angel's eyes. "Hello? Question? Mine? Answer?"

"Castiel?" Naamah scoffed from her seat at the center table. "He probably got dragged back upstairs."

"To Heaven?" Dean asked, perplexed. "Isn't that a _good_ thing?"

"No," she replied, her tone redolent with condescension, "That's a very _bad_ thing. Painfully, _awfully_ bad. He must have seriously pissed someone off."

Willow, who had joined them out of curiosity (along with Xander, and, strangely, Cordelia), wondered, "Wh-What do you mean?"

Naamah's pretense of superiority fell away. A dark, haunted look filled her eyes. "There is a reason why some of us hid on Earth. An angel who is disobedient is treasonous, blasphemous, but numbers do not grow. Only in extreme cases are we sentenced to death."

"So then where's Castiel?" asked Sam.

"In… reformation." The former angel swallowed. "When… _If_ Castiel returns he will no longer be the same as when he left. He will be committed to _their_ cause, no matter the consequences."

Buffy's hand pressed to her lips as she recalled last time Castiel had made an unscheduled visit to her bedroom. "Oh, God. This is my fault."

Giles' eyebrows lifted at the Slayer. "How is that possible?"

"I told him it was okay, that there were good reasons to go his own way. Now they've got him doing the Clockwork Orange thingy and it's _my fault_."

Sam put his hand on his sister's shoulder. "Buffy, you can't—"

The Slayer shrugged off her brother's attempt to assuage her guilt and demanded, "How do we get him out?"

"You _don't_ ," Naamah replied firmly.

"Why the hell not?" Dean snapped.

"Because he's in _Heaven_ , you hairless ape."

"So tell us how to get up there," Buffy ordered.

Naamah gave her a withering look. "There is no pathway for a _human_ into Heaven. Unless one of you is volunteering to die…?"

A few seconds of silence ensued as the group glanced at one another uncomfortably. "Hey," Cordelia abruptly said brightly, "if Sam and Dean and Buffy have all already died once, wouldn't it make sense that they could just, you know, go die again?"

Xander rolled his eyes. "And once again, Cordelia, your logic knows no bounds."

"I'm just saying! Something always brings them back. So what's to say it won't happen again?"

The three siblings looked at one another. "Not it," Dean finally uttered. "Sam?"

"Uh…"

"This is stupid," Buffy snapped. She looked at Naamah. "Will they kill him?"

"I doubt it," the former angel replied. "He's too valuable. But when he _is_ out you better watch your backs." She frowned. "I'm surprised that you're all concerned about Castiel when you _should_ be worrying about Lucifer's ascension."

"We haven't _forgotten_ about it," Sam told her harshly. "We've just got no clues on what to do next."

"Have you not spoken with Mayor Wilkins?"

"Wait, what?"

Everyone stared at Naamah, nonplussed. She swept her eyes over her audience. At their curious and bewildered expressions she regained some of her former superciliousness. "You have _no_ idea what he is, do you?"

"Do you?" Buffy countered.

"Well, duh. He's—"

The library doors banged open as Faith marched her way inside. "Yo, B… and, you know, the rest of you."

"Hey!" Cordelia cried indignantly.

The dark-haired Slayer continued as if she hadn't been interrupted. "Word out on the street is that there's a whole shitload of demons heading into town. Wanna come beat up on some sources and find out why?"

Buffy began to agree to the excursion when the bell rang. As the rest of her friends (including Naamah) began gathering their books and backpacks she sighed, disappointed. "Guess not."

"I'll go," Dean volunteered.

Faith gave him an eager smirk which morphed into a scowl when Sam interjected, "No, _I'll_ go. You stay here and watch Jimmy."

"Who died and made you boss?" his brother grumbled.

As his true intention was to have a few moments sans family in order to either try and contact Ruby or find a source to refill his emptied flask, Sam scrambled to develop a believable fiction. "Look, Faith's already going to be there as the muscle, and you suck at playing 'good cop'."

"Fine, whatever."

To both Sam and Dean's surprise (and slight disgust), Cordelia paused to whisper something to Wesley on her way out that turned the young man's ears red. She slid one finger sensuously under his chin before following the other high schoolers out of the library. "Dude," Dean said once they were gone. "Seriously?"

Wesley spent the next few minutes sputtering denials as Faith and Sam conferred over where exactly they were heading. Their plan was to begin at Willy's and make their way through various creature haunts before seeing if the graveyard denizens had any insights. It was a wide net to throw, but if the demons had a nefarious reason for entering the Hellmouth they all agreed that it would be better to discover it sooner rather than later. The pair said their brief goodbyes before leaving via the library's back door.

Jimmy, who had been quiet ever since Naamah had been brought in, gave a lugubrious sigh. "I'm not going home, am I?"

"Not right now," Dean told him.

"Ever?"

The hunter exchanged apprehensive glances with both the Watcher and the ex-Watcher. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Giles said gently.

Jimmy stared sightlessly at the wall, despondent. "I should never have left. No matter how important he claimed it was, I shouldn't have said 'yes'. My family probably thinks I'm dead. They _should_ consider me dead and move on."

"Perhaps a phone call?" Wesley suggested.

The offer made Jimmy sit up straight and look pleadingly at the other three men. Dean was inclined to deny him, but Giles nodded. "I suppose if we could get a temporary phone it would be all right. As long as you are careful not to give any indication of where you're at."

Dean rubbed a hand down his face, exasperated with the entire situation. "Fine. I've got one or two burners in the car. We'll toss it afterwards."

Jimmy's eyes filled with tears. He bowed his head to hide them. "Thank you."

* * *

Sam and Faith had fun mangling Willy's face and hit a few of the seedier areas of town to beat their way through a pack of werewolves and a shapeshifter before taking a food break. Night had fallen and their next destination was Shady Hill cemetery. It was one of the larger graveyards in town, primarily due to its proximity to Sunnydale Memorial Hospital. "Vamps a'plenty," Faith explained.

The pair was walking past the movie theater when Sam realized that Faith was giving him a look that was almost… venerating. "What?"

"You've got an awesome temper, Sam," she said admiringly. "Man, the way you tore into that shapeshifter? Gotta day: wicked jealous that I don't have that kinda buildup."

Sam swallowed apprehensively. The withdrawal was getting worse by the hour and Ruby had yet to give him any indication that she'd received his messages. "We just needed the information."

"Whatever you say, Sammy," the Slayer replied jauntily. "Though it's kinda hard for anything to talk when you rip their face off."

The hunter's rage slipped. He grabbed the front of her shirt in two fists and slammed her against the wall of the alley they were walking down. "I don't have time for your shit, Faith! Who knows how long it'll be until some demon decides to waltz in and rip Jimmy apart?"

The supernaturally enhanced young woman could have easily torn away from him. Instead she writhed sensuously and crooned, "Why, Sammy. I had no idea you liked it rough."

Disgusted with both her flirtation and himself, Sam dropped Faith. "Forget it. I'm heading back to help my brother and sister." He turned and stormed away, hands locked into fists.

Faith watched him go, a predatory gleam in her eye. She'd been around addicts nearly her entire life; she knew the signs of someone desperately in need of a fix. What was Sam's poison, she wondered? She doubted it was anything mundane like meth or cigs. Maybe the boss would know.

* * *

Several blocks away, Sam turned around to check whether or not Faith had decided to follow. Once he determined it was clear, he pulled out his phone and hit redial. "Ruby," he snarled, "I'm calling _again_. I'm all out. I need _more_. Just… at least tell me where the hell you've been, for God's sake!"

Sam ended the call, jammed the phone back into his pocket, and pushed his fingers into his hair. This was bad. He'd never felt so much _want_ before. It was beginning to crowd every other thought from his mind, including those that remembered he had yet to tell siblings how Ruby had unlocked his powers. If the demons _were_ coming and he somehow lost control…

He passed by City Hall and could have sworn he smelled what he was after. The miasma exuding from an open window was just so achingly wonderful. It could be what Sam sought… or it could be a complete delusion. Either way, entering the Mayor's headquarters without a plan or backup was tantamount to suicide.

Shaking his head, Sam swallowed his desires and headed towards Buffy's home. Ruby _would_ get back to him. Eventually.

* * *

"Now that _is_ interesting!" exclaimed the Mayor. "What do you think?"

"Dunno, boss," Faith replied as she leaned against the door. "Whatever it is, he wants it _bad_."

"Hmm." Wilkins paced a bit back and forth in front of his desk. "And then there's this… angel vessel wandering around all willy-nilly. Cookie?" He opened up a nearby ceramic jar. Eagerly, his Slayer snatched a chocolate chip took a big bite. "Now don't you forget to both brush _and_ floss tonight."

"Sure thing," Faith replied absentmindedly.

"I think it might be time to call in a few favors, maybe get all our ducks in a row." The Mayor sat behind his desk and picked up a ballpoint pen. "Did you happen to get the vessel's name?"

"Only the first. Jimmy something."

"Jim… my," Wilkins repeated as he wrote the name down on post-it. "You've got a few assignments, my dear," he proclaimed as he stuck the note onto his computer screen. "First is to get the vessel's first _and_ last name."

Faith shrugged and gave him a cocksure grin. "Easy enough."

"Now don't be getting airs, young lady. It's not very becoming." He paused a bit and pensively tapped a finger on his desk. After a few seconds his eyes brightened with inspiration. "The second is to make sure Sam Winchester gets what he wants, _preferably_ with big brother and little sister there to see him partake."

"Yeah, okay," Faith agreed, puzzled, "but what is it?"

"I have a sneaking suspicion, but I'm going to place a call or two to make sure." The Mayor picked up the landline phone on his desk. "In the meantime, you go and make sure you get the first thing done. Failure is not an option!" he added with mock severity.

"Got it, boss," his Slayer said with a jaunty little smile. She opened the door she'd been leaning upon and sauntered down the hall.

Wilkins chuckled to himself as he dialed. This whole fatherly thing really was entertaining! Imagine what it could have been like back when… well, no use dithering about the past.

A woman picked up. "Hello?"

"Ruby, my dear! Got a sec?"

* * *

 **Acknowledgment** : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episode "The Rapture"(SPN 4.20).


	59. Just FYI

(4/8/2018) Hey all! I just wanted to let you know that I haven't abandoned this fic. Life's been a bitch. I've been working on editing the rest of the story to help me get some of that motivation and inspiration back but if anyone has anything they'd like to throw my way I'd deeply appreciate it! Thank you all for being patient with me and I hope to have something new up soon.


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